


One Thing

by ThomE_Gemcity_06



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alaric Whump!, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Brotherly! Damon, Brothers, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death(s), Damon Whump!, Doppelganger Dreams, Dream Manipulation, Dreams and Nightmares, Feeding on Animals, Feeding on Humans, Feeding on Vampire Blood, Food Issues, Gen, Heartbreak/Break Up(s), Heavy Angst, Human Stefan Salvatore, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Mentioned/Past Child Abuse, Mind Compulsion, Mind Manipulation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Possessive Behavior, Secret Relationship(s), Slash/Smut, Stefan Whump!, Suicidal Thoughts/Past Attempts, Teenage Drama, Torture, Underage... because though Stefan is a 145 year old vampire he was still turned when he was 17!, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love, Vampire Alaric Saltzman, Vampire/Human, Vampirism, dub-con, relationship drama, season 1 based
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-01-28 01:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 33
Words: 371,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12594668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThomE_Gemcity_06/pseuds/ThomE_Gemcity_06
Summary: Stefan and Alaric have met before the history teacher comes to Mystic Falls—but that's not the only drama that takes over the town, with new friendships and pasts coming to a head, there will always be a crises where vampires (witches and doppelgangers) are involved.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've just recently finish rewatching season 1 of The Vampire Diaries and this plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone; I was practically forced to write this LOL. It utterly got out of hand, I mean waaaaay out of hand.  
> This is Stefan/Alaric, please enjoy.

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

[PROLOGUE]

Stefan buried his face in the crook of his elbow, moaning in pleasure, as he felt the veins throb and crawl around his eyes and the sharp pain in his gums as he fought against his fangs. His senses heightened exponentially as they always did when he 'vamped-out,' the predator coming to the fore.

He focused on the large-palmed hands grasping his hips, caressing his ribs and back, teasing his cock. The groans and grunts that were not his own. The _live_ panting breath behind him.

It had been a while since he'd done this, allowed himself this luxury. Not just sex with a man but sex in general. Sex was a struggle in restraint for Stefan, especially when he was with a human. The warmth of them, the _smell_ of their perpetration and arousal. The sound of that rapid pumping heart, the warm pulsing blood beneath such a thin layer of delicate skin.

Sex made him hungry. Sex made him want to feed, to take that extra bit of pleasure and give himself that wicked orgasmic feel of warm, _human_ blood filling him up, claiming it. _Bathe--_

He gave a cry as his prostate was continually stroked by his bed partner's seeming tireless strokes. It was driving him insane! " _Ric_!" his fangs came out and buried them into his own arm to stop himself from doing something terrible and reckless like devouring the history professor.

He was passing through North Carolina on his way back home, back to Mystic Falls. It had been 50 years since he was there last; there had been an incident, he'd fought with Damon, who lashed out and killed their nephew Jacob. He found himself on the Duke University campus, walking through the busy halls, when he found himself sitting in on one of the lectures.

Professor Alaric Saltzman had drawn him in as he talked about the Chinese Empire. The enthusiasm on the subject, his love. Stefan had a thing for history, too. He'd lived through so much of it, been a part of it. To see the world literally grow and mature, laws and technology developed and employed. It was both torture and privilege to have been able to experience it because of his vampirism.

Stefan couldn't help himself so when the hall cleared he descended the stairs to the stage where Alaric was packing up, told him how much he enjoyed the lecture. That he was a visiting student doing the tour to see if he wanted to go to Duke after he graduated this year and how interested he was in history. Alaric was delighted to have a young mind interested and they got a bite to eat in some hole-in-the-wall discussing several eras well into the night before they ended up back at Alaric's apartment.

And here they were.

Stefan withdrew his fangs from his arm, managed to clear away the little blood it drew with a swipe of his tongue. He rose his head, succeeding to settle his face back into its more human reflection and reached up, grasping the headboard.

He'd held off long enough, the tight coil of orgasm in his lower belly was fit to tear him apart if he didn't let go. So he did.

His sac drew up and he trembled into the climax, ejaculating on his stomach and thighs, calling out as he clenched around Alaric cock buried in him and forcing the man into a long awaited orgasm. Alaric grunted and clutched at him with enough force to bruise any human, but they were already healed before he even took his hands away. Stefan could feel the warmth of his sperm through the latex of the condom as he finished, slumping onto the vampire teen's sweaty back, panting heavily.

Alaric nuzzled the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck, before kissing the knob at the top of his spine. He wanted nothing more than to collapse right there but he pulled back, holding the base of the condom around his now flaccid cock, his other going soothingly to Stefan's hip as he gently pulled out, stroking the golden flesh.

Stefan gave a soft exhale, still leaning against the headboard, feeling disappointed at the severance of their connect and the stolen warmth.

"Alright?" Alaric quested as he discarded the condom.

"Mm." Stefan hummed in pleased agreement. He turned and slumped down against the headboard. Alaric handed him some tissue from the nightstand beside the bed.

"I thought I might have gone a bit overboard." He admitted, embarrassed. "I don't know what came over me," he brushed a hand through his dirty-blond hair, "It's been a while."

Stefan flashed him a small smile. "It's been a while for me, too. Feels like it's been decades." It definitely has.

Alaric snorted, cruising the muscled, lean body displayed before him as he cleaned himself off with the provided tissue. "Why don't I believe that, Stefan."

"You'll just have to take my word for it," he teased, leaning over the older man to throw away the soiled tissue and then took advantage of the position to swoop in and claim Ric's lips in a kiss.

Alaric opened up with a chuckle, his tongue swiping against Stefan's and picking up the remaining traces of the vampire's blood without realizing. His cock stirred between them as the kiss grew more heated, thickening with hot blood in arousal. He hadn't that short a refractory period since he was a pre-teen going through puberty, body flooded with hormones.

Stefan reached between them, grasping his already rock-hard member with Alaric's thickening one and stroking them together. He caught the blond's stuttering groans with nips and licks against his pink lips.

Stefan released them, rising on his knees and shifting further into the professor's lap, his erection rubbing against his hairy stomach before he reached behind himself and between, grasping Alaric's thick throbbing cock and started to guide him to his entrance.

"Wait--" Alaric started, breaking the kiss as he realized what Stefan was about to do. They needed another condom and more lube; the last thing he wanted was to injure the young man—but Stefan already made the decision for him, lowering himself onto his erection. There was still lube slicking his hole and Alaric slid in easily enough. What the lube didn't make up for, vampire healing would.

Stefan gasped and Alaric couldn't stop the low grown as he grasped Stefan's hips to help steady him as he drew slowly down. He carefully watched the teen's expression for signs of pain or distress through his own lust, but only saw his forest green eyes flutter in pleasure and his parted lips echo the sentiment in audio.

"Okay?" Alaric stroked his cheek and down his neck as Stefan settled fully seated without a hitch.

"Stop worrying. I'm not a kid." He pressed their foreheads together, arms wrapped around his shoulders, pressing them close. He could feel the human's strong heartbeat beat against the right side of his lower chest.

_But you fucking are,_ Alaric wanted to say, but that concern was overlaid with pleasure and lust as Stefan gyrated his hips, slowly at first, then faster, creating a steady intense rhythm. He wrapped his arms around the teen, holding him, Stefan's cock sandwiched between their torsos, stimulated as Ric undulated his own hips and they moved against each other together.

They started kissing again, gasping into each other's salivating mouths, tongues dancing in concert. Stefan just wanted to inhale the man inside of him in every way. The vampire didn't fight the building orgasm this time as he prostate was stimulated until it was unbearable, he didn't vamp-out either. He let the pulses wash over and through, flexing his muscled walls against the pliable naked flesh inside of him.

They came nearly simultaneously, Stefan against their stomachs, Alaric inside of him, crying out each other's names into the recipients mouth like a mewl of ecstasy.

They fell back into bed, tangled. Alaric's head pillowed against Stefan's chest. He was fast asleep before he could notice the absence of a heartbeat.

Stefan was gone before he awoke in the morning.

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 


	2. CHAPTER 1

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

Stefan hurried to class, binder under his arm, rushed and somewhat flustered.

A lot had happened the past couple weeks, there were too many things that needed to take priority. Damon killing Tanner, Damon killing Lexi, Elena finding out about Katherine, breaking it off with Elena, other vampire(s) coming to town. But Elena would always take precedence.

The bell had rung, he could already hear the lesson starting. He was not having a very good morning. He felt like a cursed (vampire) teenager; he didn't have a very productive night's rest, got shampoo in his eyes, Damon was being irritating, the bottled blood in the fridge had spoiled and there was no time to go out and hunt.

He stepped into class, hoping to just slip into his usual seat in the second row, four back, one back adjacent from Elena who looked both surprised and even pleased to see him, when the high school's new history teacher turned to look his way.

Both men froze for an instant as they locked eyes and the situation they found themselves in enveloped them.

"Sorry I'm late, R-- Mr Saltzman." Stefan recovered first, eyes flickering pointedly at the chalkboard with his name written. "It won't happen again."

Alaric cleared his throat. "See that it doesn't, Mr...?" he followed the teen's lead.

"Stefan. Salvatore." He hadn't given the man his surname when they met the first time.

"Well, Mr Salvatore. Have a seat. It's my first day so I'll give you a pass. I won't be so nice next time."

Stefan quickly took his seat to the murmurs and giggles of his classmates. If he had any blood to waste he wasn't sure if he'd be pale(er) or tomato-red.

"So, what are we learning?" Alaric asked.

"The '50's!" a girl called out helpfully.

"Right," Alaric quickly turned to the board and started to write. He attempted to get his heart under control and surreptitiously wiped the nervous sweat that broke out on his forehead. He'd slept with a teenager! One that could possibly have been sixteen at the time of copulation a few months ago. He was going to go to prison! "What can I say about the ‘50’s?"

Alaric spent the period avoiding looking at Stefan, and Stefan tried to ignore Elena's attempts to talk to him. Stefan never had a sexual escapade blowback on him before—that was more Damon's territory. But this was something that he was never going to go to his brother with.

...

As soon as the end-of-class bell rang, Stefan practically ran from class, barely holding back using his vamp-speed to do it. It felt like the longest hour of his life and that was saying something. He just needed to get away from Elena's pressing stare and Alaric's avoiding one before he decided that the better alternative was to start tearing into necks.

"Stefan. Stefan!" Elena _did_ have to actually run to catch us with him back outside the cafeteria, on his _own way_ to lunch in the woods behind the school. "Hey!"

He thought about playing deaf and keep going before she grabbed his arm and he sighed, reluctantly _allowing_ the doppelganger to literally yank him to a halt in the grass. Of course she had nothing on him. He stared at the grass, scuffing his boot as he felt the continued warmth of her hand on his arm.

"Hey," she said. "I've been trying to talk to you all day." He could hear her heart pick up a little as she went to continue.

Stefan finally lifted his gaze to hers. "What I said still stands, Elena. We can't be together. I'm sorry." He shifted his arm out of her hand and he could see the disappointment flash in her brown eyes.

"But you're staying...?" Elena asked in confusion. Stefan nodded. "But if you're staying, we don't have to break up."

"I think it's better if we just stay friends, Elena." Stefan told her gently. "Your were right; it's messed up, the whole Katherine-thing. I shouldn't have let it happen in the first place--"

"You didn't _let_ anything happen." She retorted angrily, taking a step back and crossing her arms over her chest. "I know you're a vampire but it doesn't change how I feel about you, Stefan."

"Elena," he sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

She uncrossed her arms and lay her hand on his chest where his still heart lay. "It doesn't have to change anything. We have time, let's just talk about this. Please?"

Stefan licked his lips and rallied against the spell she would always have over him. "Look, I really need to feed." He nodded his head at the tree line behind the fence and put an end to their conversation. "I'll see you in class after lunch, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay, fine." She gave a short, reluctant nod, letting her hand drop away from his chest and he simply became a blur as he flitted over the fence and disappeared into the woods.

...

Stefan returned to school flushed and feeling a little less frazzled now that he had a belly full of animal blood. He actually had the luck to come across a boar. It was in it adolescence still, but large. It filled and sated him more than the five rabbits he would have only time to drink at such a short period.

He passed Bonnie in the hall going to class and nodded. Amusement lit up her eyes and she chuckled. "Hey, Stefan."

Bemused, he turned towards her. "What?"

She went on her tiptoes and reached towards him. "Or should I say... Tarzan?" she plucked a leaf from his styled hair.

He gave a little grimace of embarrassment and took the leaf from her, crushing it in his palm. He shot a glance around, but the other students passed them by in ignorance. "I don't think Tarzan eats his animal companions, Bonnie."

A grin on her lips, books clutched to her chest, she leaned forward conspiratorially. Stefan couldn't help but be pulled in. "I know. He'd spend every night eating out (of) Jane." She laughed at the shocked dance his thick brows did and spun around to disappear into the crowd of passing students.

Stefan chuckled to himself as he continued on to his next class with Elena. He and Bonnie had been a bit rocky when she found out that he was a vampire, but after feeding her his blood to save her life after she was possessed by Emily and Damon tore her throat open and rescued her from the tomb under the old Fell Church, their friendship had been growing on its own as the new witch discovered that he could be trusted.

The day was easier to get through with his belly full of blood, but by the expression Elena occasionally flashed him, he knew she wasn't done talking after their discussion at lunch.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Stefan managed to write a little in his journal but he was too restless to stay cooped up in the Boarding House that night. He couldn't focus on the book he was trying to read. The whiskey did nothing to settle the flight-y feeling. He wasn't in the mood for hunting. So he went into town.

He of course ended up at the Grill. Thankfully Elena and friends weren't present; he was not in the mood or mind to continue their 'talk'.

He loved Elena, he always would. But he just couldn't love her like that, he could never trust it, just like he learned of the real truth of his 'love' with Katherine after he turned and discovered she had compelled him.

His first thoughts when he pulled Elena out of the water at the bridge that night of the car crash and saw her face, pale in the moonlight, was _Katherine_ followed immediately by _Kill!_ before he let her frantically beating heart erase his vampire-rage to immediately consume him with guilt and shame. There was no way that this girl was Katherine Pierce, his sire was dead. So when she started to regain consciousness, he compelled her to forget him and then watched her over the summer to make sure that it truly wasn't Katherine; he wouldn't put it passed the vampire to somehow find a cure to vampirism. It wasn't. Her name was Elena Gilbert, she was human and by then Stefan had already fallen in love.

Luckily for the both of them, they had yet to have sex. Just some very intense make out sessions on her bed, and clothed heavy-petting.

He immediately spotted Jenna and Jeremy in a booth and didn't want to have some awkward family encounter now that he and Elena had broken up, and was just about to turn right around and leave before his eyes caught the sight of a bowed head of dirty-blond hair sitting alone at one of the cocktail tables.

Ric. Stefan worried his bottom lip but his feet were already moving him through the crowded tables to the history teacher. He was already sliding into the stool across from the man.

"Mr Saltzman-just-call-me-Ric," Stefan said lowly, shocked at himself for sounding flirty when he was sure that had not been his intention. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

Alaric’s head snapped up from where he had been engrossed in reading one of many history texts on Mystic Falls; though he came here for a reason he could not help but get pulled to distraction by such deep and rich history. His eyes widened as he took in Stefan across from him and shot a quick glance around.

"I didn't think I would see you again." Alaric admitted, sitting back stiffly and speaking quietly so there was no chance that others around them could pick up their conversation. "Least of all under these circumstance."

"Neither did I," Stefan admitted.

Alaric narrowed his eyes. "How old are you really, Stefan? Is it too much to pray that you've been held back because if you're just starting senior year then--" he couldn't voice the rest, too disgusted with himself.

"I was 17 when we met," Stefan told him; which was true. "My birthday was a week ago." Also true; technically he wasn't lying. That was why Lexi had come, that was why she was now dead. He shoved the thought aside. It was his human birthday, not the date that he turned. Alaric didn't seem very much relieved at the news. "I'm more mature than I look?" he tried to joke. It fell flat and he grabbed Alaric's glass of bourbon and threw it back like a seasoned drinker.

"You're not old enough to drink." Alaric instantly reprimanded and a look of horror came upon him and Stefan grimaced a little. If he had to be a vampire, fine, he just wished he could have turned at the perfect age like Damon; 24, legal for everything but becoming the president.

"I can't believe I just said that." Alaric uttered more to himself than anything. He gave his head a shake and set his shoulders, putting his hand over the now empty glass that Stefan still held on the table and looked at him firmly. "It wasn't appropriate the first time and it certainly isn't now. I am your teacher and you are my student and that is it. What happened--" he shook his head. "Was a mistake. I wasn't in a good place, I was lonely— _it was a mistake, Stefan."_

Stefan couldn't stop the ache in his chest. He was pathetic. It was a one-night-stand. If Alaric wasn't sitting right across from him, would he even be so hung up?

"Go home, Stefan." Alaric told him sympathetically. "Go to your girlfriend. Live your life."

"See you in class tomorrow, Mr Saltzman." Stefan said politely, properly, that mask slipping in place as he stood.

Alaric nodded. "Have a goodnight, Mr Salvatore."

Stefan stepped outside, looked left then right to see the coast was clear and flitted home, ignoring the call of blood and the urge to vent in the form of Ripping things— _people_ —apart. He was passed those days and he refused to lash out in the very Damon-like fashion. When he got to the Boarding House, he took to the alcohol like a fish much to Damon's amusement; who tittered around him irritatingly, twittering about his brooding and split from Elena. He refused to rise to the bait, though he almost failed a few times before he finally drank enough to feel the effects of the alcohol through his vampire metabolism.

...

When Stefan went to school the next day, in history class he and Alaric pretended not to know each other and it was all just as well. Life went on. He had a rogue vampire with an Elena-fetish to kill and that was all the motivation he needed to put his focus elsewhere.

~ **_T V D_** ~

It was the school's '50's themed dance and Damon came up with the brilliant idea to use Elena as bait to draw out her creepy deliveryman vampire stalker. Damon went as chaperone and Stefan went with Elena as her 'date'.

Stefan tried to ignore the twist in his gut as he spotted Alaric talking with Damon and he spun Elena to the music. It wasn't out of jealousy but fear, the last thing he wanted was the teacher near his brother who happened to kill the last history teacher to teach him a lesson. So the teen knew that last thing he should do was react and show concern, warn his brother away; that would just pique the dark-haired vampire's interest.

It wasn't long before Elena was led on a cat-and-mouse chase through the halls and the night ending with Stefan staking the vampire who was unwilling to depart with the information of his other tomb-cohorts.

And if Alaric was a little more stiff with him after the dance, Stefan didn't make the connection to him finding out about Damon.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Stefan found out not long after when he was tasked to retrieve the Jonathan Gilbert Journal which Jeremy had loaned to Alaric after he struck the deal with Damon to help him get the tomb open and rescue Katherine on the promise that they would both leave and never return to Mystic Falls so long as Elena was alive and thereafter.

The school was closed, dark and empty at this time of night. Stefan may have been the undead, but it still felt a bit creepy as he made his way to the history classroom. His ears told him that he was alone, but the raised hairs on his nape contradicted it—he put more trust in the latter.

The classroom was unlocked and he quickly checked the teacher’s desktop and drawers. He cursed as he came up empty. Alaric must have taken it home with him. If that was the case then he'd have to wait until school tomorrow to get his hands on it. Stefan didn't think Damon would very happy with that.

The sound of compressed air had him spinning around at vamp-speed and grasping a flying wooden stake out of the air with hardly any time to spare.

"Ric?" his gaze darted to the stake in his hand, to what looked like a stake-launcher in Alaric's, to the face of the man himself. His mind wanted to refuse the obvious implication but it couldn't. Alaric knew. "You were gonna kill me?"

"You're a vampire!" Alaric growled, face twisted in misery. "That's all the reason I need."

Stefan schooled his expression of the hurt. He sped over and quickly disarmed the human, shoving him roughly into one of the desk chairs. "How did you know I was a vampire? How did you know you just weren't about to kill an innocent student?"

"You're Damon's brother. I made the connection."

"How did you know that Damon's a vampire?" he wondered curiously. If Damon realized Alaric still wouldn't be alive

Alaric swallowed the lump in his throat. "He killed my wife. I saw him... feeding on her. And then they both disappeared. I've been looking for him for almost 2 years, trying to find answers. Why? Where he... dumped her body."

"Oh, Ric." Stefan slumped back against the teacher's desk. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"Why should I believe you?" Alaric demanded.

"I guess you have no reason to, but it's the truth." Stefan promised. "Damon's dangerous, Ric. You should stay away from him." Alaric said nothing more and the vampire sighed. "I just want the journal." Stefan whispered. "Jonathan Gilbert's Journal. Give it to me and I'll go." He stood up.

Alaric narrowed his eyes. "What do you need it for?"

"It holds very dangerous information that I can't let get into the wrong hands." He explained. When Alaric didn't answer he assured, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"You can't compel me, I have vervain."

Stefan shouldn't have been surprised at the accusation. "I'm not trying to compel you, Ric. I'm _asking_ you. There are other vampires in Mystic Falls, dangerous ones and they're going to use the information in the journal to release 26 more into town. If that happens, they'll wipe all the humans out. Please."

Alaric swallowed. "It's on my desk."

Stefan shook his head. "It's not."

"Yes it is," he denied, getting up and standing around Stefan, he searched the desktop to no avail. "It was. It was here ten minutes ago." He turned to Stefan, "I heard something and went to get my stakes..."

"And when I came it was already gone." The vampire cursed and palmed his forehead in frustration, pacing shortly. "That means they got the journal! Shit. I don't know who they are, how many there are. I don't know what's in the journal--"

Alaric's arm suddenly shot out and he put a hand on Stefan's arm, stopping the vampire's frantic passing. "I made a copy."

"What?" he blinked.

Alaric nodded. "I can't believe I forgot. Earlier today. They're in my locker." Relief flooded Stefan and they quickly retrieved them from the man's locker. "Here." He handed them to the vampire.

Stefan fought the urge to hug Alaric, to crash their lips together hungrily. Alaric must have seen it on his face because he turned away. Stefan sighed in defeat, his fists tightened on the papers. "Thank you," he whispered sincerely.

Alaric turned back around but the teen vampire was already gone. Sighing in frustration, the history teacher and amateur vampire hunter carded his fingers through his hair and slammed the locker door shut. That had not gone at all as he had intended but definitely a lot better than he anticipated. Logan Fell had been his very first kill, he'd been very lucky with it instead of his skill. But when he thought he was going to have to kill Stefan...

He hadn't even realized that it was the teen standing in the dark until he had turned around. What the hell was going to happen now that Stefan knew that he knew, and with his brother, and now 26 more vampires?! Things just got a helluva lot more complicated than he had anticipated.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Stefan kicked in the motel door with more force than was truly warranted, but his seething mood said that it was.

His plan to burn the spell book buried in his father's grave to keep Damon and these other vampires from ever opening the tomb backfired on him with whiplash. Damon had cohorted with Anna for the journal and found them at the grave where he forced Elena to drink his blood and then threatened to kill her unless Stefan handed over the grimoire. Stefan did. Then he and Elena found out that Bonnie was missing, only for Anna to kidnap Elena with Damon's blood still in her system.

Stefan went to the only ally he had—Sheila Bennett, Bonnie's grandmother. Her locator spell led him here to some Motel 6 at the edge of town where he was out for blood.

The door splintered inward and he heard Elena and Bonnie shout in surprise, but their guard dog, a baby vampire, shrieked as he was hit with sunlight. He flailed into the shadowed recesses of the room.

"Stefan!" Elena cried in relief.

"Go!" Stefan ordered and tore open the curtains, flooding the room. He could hear the newbie's skin sizzle in the direct sunlight as he dove for protection between the two beds. The two teens rushed passed him. "I'll be out in a minute." He said.

"Please. Please don't kill me," the night bartender from the Grill begged.

Stefan tore a chunk off of the splintered door and silently stalked forward. He grasped the coward around the neck and lifted him up, where he struggled and cried out as the sun hit him through the window.

"You shouldn't have taken her. You shouldn't have taken either of them. You shouldn't have touched them!" Stefan growled menacingly, veins crawling around his green eyes threateningly. "This is a true mercy." And he plunged the makeshift stake into Ben McKittrick's stomach, up under his ribcage and into his still heart.

The new vampire grunted and cringed in pain, writhing for a moment in Stefan’s hold before he stilled, arms dropping, eyes glazed over, and he desiccated. Stefan dropped him, shut the curtains and closed the splintered door. He replaced the Do Not Disturb sign on the crooked knob.

"Are you two alright?" Stefan questioned quietly as he found them standing nervously at the end of the walkway. Elena immediately flew into his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He wrapped one arm reassuringly around her. "Bonnie?" he reached out and put a hand on the witch's shoulder, squeezing it in concern. "Okay?"

"Yeah." She gave a small nod and him a grateful look. "They wanted me to do the spell to open the tomb and took Elena as leverage to make sure that I did it."

Stefan rubbed her arm comfortingly. "Come on, we need to get out of here before Anna comes back. I took care of the jackass easily enough, but she's 400 years old." He quickly led the pair across the lot.

Elena finally pulled back. "How did you find us?"

"Sheila did a locator spell."

"Is this Grams' car?" Bonnie said in surprise as they stopped at a car.

Stefan nodded with a small smile. "She lent it to me with the sole promise not to adjust the seat; said it was just right and not to mess with it."

Bonnie gave a light chuckle as she and Elena climbed into the back and Stefan behind the wheel. "That sounds like Grams."

"I'm taking you back there," Stefan said, pulling out into the street. "It'll be safe there. No vampire will be able to get you."

"I'm not just going to hide away," the witch protested.

"Damon's never going to stop trying, Bonnie." Elena tried to reason, remembering that taste of his blood as he got the grimoire. "It's not safe."

"I'm not going to let the likes of Damon Salvatore force me into hiding!" Bonnie declared firmly, fire in her chocolate brown eyes. "So if the only way to get him to leave us all alone is to open that tomb and give him that bitch, then so be it. He'll be out of our lives for good."

...

Stefan went through the motions of his shower, the water swirling down the drain grey and ash-y.

Sheila and Bonnie had managed to break the spell on the tomb, opening it. But Katherine was not down there with all the other desiccated vampires from 1864 like Damon had been lead to believe all these years. That meant that she was still alive, undead, somewhere out there. Stefan shuddered and shivered at the thought, while the realization that Katherine never loved him devastated Damon.

As they had all expected, Anna had made an appearance at the tomb for her mother, Pearl. She burned with the other 25 vampires in that tomb; imprisoned in their desiccated flesh for the last 145 years, only to meet the flames of hell via the flamethrower Stefan acquired. It was the deal he had made with Sheila; Damon got Katherine and the rest would perish.

It was one huge burden off of his shoulders. He and Damon were back to being the only vampires in Mystic falls; Bonnie and Elena were no longer in danger. His life could go back to relative normality and it finally left him the time to dwell on the dirty-blond.

He hadn't had the chance to talk to Ric since the encounter at school a few days ago. He wanted to help Alaric find out the truth about what happened to his wife but Stefan didn't think now was a very good time to question his brother about his one-night-stand's dead wife and draw attention to the teacher with Damon's no doubt volatile mood.

Stefan stepped from the shower, dried and dressed in comfortable pants and a tee. It was better that he stay here, keep an eye on his brother. Help if he could though he didn't hold much confidence in success. He quietly went downstairs and stood in the doorway, observing his brother with a bottle and tumbler, slouched in the middle of the couch, feet on the table and staring sightless into the crackling fireplace.

"Come to watch the show, brother?" Damon opened the floor, not turning to look at him.

"Damon," Stefan sighed quietly, stepping down the steps into the parlor room.

"I just know that you're enjoying this." He finished the bourbon in his tumbler and poured another from the bottle. "Because once again, Saint Stefan in all his wisdom—was right!" he waved his hand. "Katherine didn't care about me. She just used me as a play-thing. I was the poor sap who fell for it; hook, line, and sinker!" he drank again and when Stefan was still silent, turned to his brother. "Nothing to say, brother? This day really is for the record books."

"Seeing you hurt gives me no pleasure, Damon." Stefan finally spoke. "I'm not here to 'rub your face in it'. I know you truly felt for Katherine and I'm sorry that she wasn't in that tomb. But... maybe you can start new. Have a fresh slate--"

"I just spent wasting the last 145 years for the day the comet passed to open that tomb so I could free Katherine so we could be together." Damon informed him tartly, twisting to face him. "Let it go? I don't think so! If I did that because I thought it was love—what do you think I'm going to do now, brother?" he hissed, seething. "My new diabolical plan, track down dear Katherine—and make her suffer!" he swallowed the shot and slammed the tumbler and bottle on the table. He stood. "You could help me, brother. We could tear her apart together!" he was delightfully maniac at the idea. "What do you say," he circled around the couch, "Want to get your hands bloody with me, Stefan?"

"Damon," the teen vampire watched him warily, "I finished with Katherine a long time ago."

Damon snorted. "Says the man who dated her doppelganger!"

"Elena may look the same, but she is the utter opposite of the monster and manipulator that Katherine is!" Stefan snapped back in a wave of frustration at how stubborn and stuck his brother insisted on being. He gave a sigh and took a calming breath. "I didn't come down here to argue, Damon. I'll be in my room if you need anything," Stefan offered sincerely, turning away, hoping but knowing that his brother never would.

"What the hell could you possible give me, _Saint Stefan_? _You_ are the cause to all my misery!" Damon flashed in front of the brunette and plunged his hand into his abdomen, wrist deep, with zero forewarning. He should have known better than to turn his back when Damon was in this mood.

Stefan grunt in pain and surprise, his knees shaking as he grasped his brother's arms for support. "Damon," he wheezed.

"So you can face a little agony with me, right, little brother?" He yanked his hand out, fist full as Stefan spluttered in distress, blood bubbling at his lips. "After all... we're in this together." He gave a too-bright smile and dropped Stefan's liver onto the wood floor with a wet plopping sound. "Goodnight, Stefan." He brushed off his brother's crushing grip easily, whereupon Stefan's knees gave out and he fell to the floor alongside his discarded organ, groaning. Damon strolled out and up the stairs, "If I need anything, I know just where to find you—cross my heart!" and he drew an X on his already soiled shirt with his baby brother's blood over his still heart.

Stefan was left on the floor in agony. He bit his lip to stifle the cry as he pressed his hand to the open wound in the hope of stifling the blood loss. Because of his animal diet, he didn't heal as fast and proficient as he would on human blood. What blood he had consumed that morning, he expended at the tomb and hadn't the chance to feed since making sure the Bennett witches and Elena (who he had to convince to stay from the Boarding House) got home safe—and by the time he got back he just wanted to wash it all off.

Healing from a complete organ removal was not an easy task in his condition and diet and he was fading fast as his body used its last reserves to heal him, curled up on the floor.

...

_"Okay?" Alaric stroked his cheek and down his neck..._

Stefan's eyes flickered behind his lids at the light, warm touches over his face, drawing him back before his eyes flickered open and he stared up into the worried brown eyes looking down at him set in olive-toned skin.

"Elena," he'd almost said _Katherine_.

When she would compel him to let her feed from him until he passed-out from the blood loss, he would often wake up naked in bed, his head pillowed in her lap, her strong fingers tracing the angles of his face, over his lips, down his throat over his fluttering pulse. This whole Katherine/tomb thing was bringing things back. But it was different when Elena did it.

"Stefan, thank god!" she gasped in relief and gave him a worried smile. "I was so scared when I found you on the floor with blood everywhere, I thought--"

"I'm a vampire, Elena." He reminded her. "It'll take a little more than spontaneous liver removal to kill me."

Tear glossed over her brown eyes. "It sure looked like you were."

"I'll be okay." He whispered reassuringly, reaching up to caressed her wet cheek; this wasn’t the first time she had cried, he realized. "I'll heal."

"It doesn't seem like you are," she told him, glancing down where she had bunched up her sweater and was pressing it to his upper right abdomen.

He reached down and moved her hand to get a look at it; she blanched and swallowed at the sight. Stefan grimaced but it wasn't as gaping as it was when he passed out. He put her hand back with the sweater, his over hers, squeezing it reassuringly. "It'll heal, it's just a big wound to mend on animal blood." He explained.

"What happened, Stefan?" she sniffed. "Was it--?"

"Damon." He sighed. "I tried to talk to him, but it was too soon. It was my fault." Stefan reasoned. "I knew how he was but I still pushed it."

"I know Damon is hurt, but that doesn't make it okay for him to attack you like this."

"This is just how Damon acts when he's hurt. He doesn't want to go through it alone, but is unwilling to ask for comfort, so he makes people hurt so they're on the same level as him. I'm used to it,"

"That shouldn't be something you get 'used to'." She responded.

"Maybe it's better if I give him some space," Stefan mumbled in acquiescence.

"I think that's a good idea," Elena agreed. "You can stay at my place,"

"Elena," he sighed, but it was in defeat. He let the human girl pull him up. "I need to feed."

She looked at him in concern. "Are you well enough to hunt?" it was the conundrum he faced. "We could stop by the butcher's for blood on the way home," Elena suggested.

Stefan's scrunched up in disgusted and she snorted cutely at the expression. Animal blood was an acquired taste, and that was when it was warm and fresh from the source. The blood from the butcher's was going to be cold and old, but he was out of options—he needed the blood.

"You need clothes!" she said suddenly and was already turning for the stairs.

"Elena, stop." He said and she looked back at him. "You don't even know where it is, you've never even been in my room." He started up the stairs. "Just give me five minutes?"

"Do you need help?" she offered.

He stopped and looked back at her. _She's just worried about me_ , he hoped that was all it was—she did find him passed out on the floor with his liver ripped out after all. But he might have to re-enforce their break-up. Later. He wasn't sure he could deal with it right now. "I'm okay. Just let me change." She nodded and waited by the front door as he made it to his room, moving like an injured _human._

Stefan stripped from his bloody clothes, cleaned away the blood with a cloth, grimacing. His wound was still open and weeping; he managed to find an old compression bandage under his bathroom sink that looked like it was from the '90's but it would hold until he got blood and healed. He slipped on some jeans and a black shirt in case of blood, grabbed an extra set and sweater before he headed back down. He didn't know how long he'd been out, but Damon was gone and he didn't run into his brother.

Elena stopped at the butcher's on their way through town, it was dark out but luckily still open, while Stefan waited in the car. She came out fifteen minutes later carrying a large paper bag carefully in her arms.

"Well, that's the one of the top 10 weirdest things I've done." She told him when she got back in the car, handing over the bag. "And that's saying something these days," was her tease with a wink of playfulness.

"Sorry." She just shook her head. He opened the bag and pulled out the container of blood. He wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't this. It was sealed in what looked like two litre plastic ice cream tub. He raised an eyebrow at her, this was not a practice he participated in.

"I know, but the guy said it was fresh of today." Stefan opened the container and they both grimaced at the scent. He wanted to drink it before they got to her house but-- "Oh!" he watched as she dug in her purse and produced as _straw_ with triumph. "Will this help?"

Stefan took it and stuck it in the tub of blood. "Avoid the bumps," he said wryly, already drinking.

She chuckled lightly and drove responsibly. By the time Elena pulled to the curb outside of her house, the tub was empty and stained red. He put the lid back on and wrapped it back in the paper bag. They didn't move from the car.

Stefan sighed and lay his head back against the seat, his eyes closed as he ran his tongue over his bloodied teeth, cleaning it away. He ignore the sour tang in the back of his throat and instead focused on matching his breathing with hers in the quiet, already knowing that the blood helped exponentially. He was roused from his head as he felt the pad of her thumb brush the corner of his mouth; he looked over at her.

"Did it help?" Elena asked.

He sat up, lifted up his shirt, and removed the blood-spotted bandage. He twisted to show her the blood-stained skin of his torso, that was otherwise unblemished. She reached out and traced her fingers gently over the skin, making the newly healed skin jump out with goosebumps.

She gave a sigh of relief as she pulled back and he dropped his shirt. "I was worried when it wasn't healing," Elena admitted.

"The blood did what it was supposed to. Thank you, Elena." Stefan whispered. "It still aches, but that'll be gone in a few hours too."

"I'm glad I could help," she said honestly. "So, ready to sneak in?" she grinned mischievously.

He chuckled. "I think I've been a bad influence on you, Elena Gilbert."

He easily slipped up the stairs through the front door and to her room. She closed the door behind her. She went to her bed, and pointedly tossed the blanket back.

"Elena--"

"Stefan, you need the rest." She told him sternly.

He was dead on his feet, despite the blood, no pun intended. And don't forget emotionally exhausted. "Thank you." He said.

She stood there for a moment. "Right," she said awkwardly, pointing at her joint bathroom with Jeremy. "I'll just--" she grabbed some clothes and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind her and giving him some privacy as she got ready for bed herself.

Stefan took off his shoes and socks, and slipped out of his jeans and into sleep pants. He slipped under the covers. He slept over a couple times when they were a couple, but it had been strictly sleep between them and always when some vampire was out for her because of her likeness to Katherine.

Stefan sighed. If only he could have been born in the 21st century with Elena instead of being caught in Katherine's claws in the 19th.

"Hey, you okay?" Elena whispered in concern, leaning over the side of her bed to touch his shoulder. Stefan looked at her almost in surprise; he'd been so in his head that he hadn't heard her leave the bathroom. "Talk to me, Stefan. You know you can tell me anything." She sat on the empty space on the other side of the bed, her knees tucked under her as she faced him.

"I know that I've overly complicated your life, Elena." Stefan admitted sadly after a moment. "Now that the tomb vampires aren't a problem--"

"No!" she told him firmly, cutting him off, knowing exactly where he was going. "The danger was always there, Stefan, whether you came back to Mystic Falls or not. I'll still look like _her_ , be mistaken for _her_ , be _her_ bloodline whether you stay or not. I'm still alive because of you, Stef. You were saving me before I even realized it."

"I wish I could be human for you, Elena." He whispered, sinking down into the bed and looking at her regretfully. "You deserve more than that, better than me. Better than this."

"I love you, Stefan. I know you love me, too, and as much as I wish we were still together, that's not what you want. I'm not going to resent you your feelings. But I would rather have you as my friend then not have you in my life, you're too important to me." She caressed his cheek. "Please."

He looked into her caring eyes and nodded. "Okay."

She lay down, turning off the lamp. And almost like it was rhythm, he opened his arm to her and she shifted to his side, laying her head on his chest over his still heart. He thought they both needed the comfort, the connection, the relief that the other was alright right now.

His worries didn't hold him awake as he fell asleep to the beat of her heart and rhythm of her breaths.

...

The soft murmur of voices guided Stefan smoothly towards wakefulness; there was no rush or urgency. He stirred lightly and nuzzled back into Elena's pillow, able to smell the faint scent of her shampoo.

"Hey, Sleepy Head." Elena teased him.

"Mm." Was his only response. He may be a 162 years in total, but he was still a 17 year old boy. The scent of blood had the skin around his eyes tingling and mouth watering.

"I got breakfast in bed," she enticed him and he cracked his eyes to see her wiggle a bottle of blood under his nose. He was already reaching for it as he sat up in bed, taking a gulp and his hooded gaze landed on the owner of the second voice, standing next to Elena beside the bed.

"Bonnie's here!" Elena said brightly, waving her arms at the other girl. The vampire and witch shared amused looks.

It was nice to know that he had built a life here, with relationship that he _trusted_ enough to leave himself exposed and vulnerable. Lexi was the last person he'd had that with; it was a relief to know that he still had it in himself to cultivate that still.

"It's a relief to see that you get bed head just like the rest of us," Bonnie chuckled. "And you're welcome for the blood."

"Thank you. How are you, Bonnie?" Stefan asked licking the blood from his lips. "Sheila?"

"The spell took a lot out of her; she's resting. But she'll be okay." Bonnie told him.

"Good. I was worried. You're doing alright?"

"I'm good, Stefan. I'm just glad that this whole tomb/vampire thing is finally over," she admitted. "For now, at least," was the wry adage. It was the weekend so that would give them all time to unwind before having to go back to school on Monday. Bonnie sat on the foot of the bed, a leg tucked under her. "So what are we doing today?" she looked between them.

Stefan raised his eyebrow as he continued to drink. "Are we doing something?"

"You promised you would give him space, Stefan." Elena reminded him gently but firmly. "You both just need a minute from each other."

"Damon got what he deserved if you ask me." The witch said sharply.

"Bonnie--" Stefan started, holding the empty bottle in his lap.

"No. Elena told me that he ripped out your liver, Stefan. Who does that?! You're his brother!"

How he wished that would just magically make everything between them alright. Stefan sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Relationships get complicated over the span of a 145 years, Bonnie. I've done things just as bad, if not worse than Damon." Needing something to distract him, he swiped his finger around the inside neck of the bottle, collecting the remaining traces of blood and sucked it off his finger. He set the bottle aside and looked up at the two teens and nodded at the foot of the bed to Elena.

Taking the cue, but slightly confused, the girls exchanged looks as Elena sat on her bed next to Bonnie.

"You already know that Damon and I were turned together," they nodded. "That we were trying to save Katherine but were killed in the attempt—that started our transformation—and believed Katherine perished in the fire at the church." They nodded again, questions dancing in their eyes, but they stayed silent and let him speak. "Damon was shot first," Stefan's green eyes grew distant as he was thrown back into his last minutes of truly being human and not some transmutative in-between creature, "Right in front of me. He was dead before he hit the ground. Was already gone before I could even cry out his name, let alone get to him. Shot through the back with a rifle. I was not as fortunate. The musket ball buried in my stomach," his hand fisted into the material of his shirt on his stomach over the spot of his first wound. "I lay on the cold ground, staring into the dead eyes of my elder brother for the longest, most agonizing three minutes of my human life—of my future eternity—as I slowly bled out."

Elena and Bonnie grasped hands as he continued: "But the next thing I knew, I was awake, I was alive, and so was Damon. I didn't understand it. Emily, who had saved our bodies, told me that Katherine had been compelling me for months to drink her blood and that Damon had been taking it willingly.

"Katherine was dead. Or as I knew it and Damon was set out to believe. We were going to allow ourselves to die, not complete the transformation, to just let ourselves fade away out of existence. But I was stupid, sentimental. I wanted to see father, say goodbye. Damon warned me not to go, but I didn't listen. I should have...

"I heard father talking to Jonathan Gilbert about the town record, telling him to put Damon and I's death as civilian casualties so as not to bring shame to our family for being traitors. _That_ was what he cared about, not that we were dead, but the shame of why we were killed. How _he_ was the one that killed us! I revealed myself and he called me a demon. I just wanted to say goodbye, to understand and he attacked me. I didn't know my own strength—and then there was just so much blood. I couldn't stop myself. It just tasted so good, made me feel so good! I didn't even care that my father lay there slowly bleeding out--" They gasped at the confession. Stefan gave his head a rapid shake to dislodge himself from the potent memory.

"I went back to Damon a vampire. I wanted it to be us, together, like it was before Katherine came into our lives. Brothers for eternity. I was selfish. I made Damon drink blood, made him complete the transformation. And so Damon made me a promise of his own..."

"An eternity of misery." Bonnie whispered.

Stefan didn't even realize that he was silently crying until Elena gently brushed the tears away, pulling him into an embrace. He allowed it, resting his cheek on her narrow shoulder and looked over at Bonnie. "Don't you see?" he asked the witch. "Damon loved her, he truly loved her and she was just using the both of us for her own entertainment. The favoured toys until something newer and shinier came along; forgotten in the move. She stole Damon's heart, his soul, and she poisoned it without care, she twisted it until it became something mutilated—and then she just abandoned him." He pulled back from Elena's hold, palming his face dry and looked at the both of them. "Damon has spent the last 145 years believing that Katherine was in that tomb, just waiting for the day that he could save the woman that he loved and they would walk off into the sunset—only to find out that love was a lie, that he had been abandoned and no one cared enough to tell him. His heart is broken, he's hurt, and there's nothing I can do to help him!" He pushed the blanket back. "Thanks for the blood, Bonnie. And thanks for letting me spend the night, Elena, I needed it; but I should go."

Stefan went to stand but four hands grabbed onto his arms, two on either and pulled him back. He looked in surprise at the two determined looking girls.

"Oh, no you don't." Elena said.

Bonnie nodded. "We're doing something today, remember?"

He gave them a wondering laugh—already feeling better for it.

tbc...

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 


	3. CHAPTER 2

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Stefan returned to the Boarding House after hunting on his way back from Elena's. The animal blood tasted especially good fresh and warm from the source, as opposed to the butcher blood he'd been drinking over the weekend that Elena and Bonnie had gotten him. It was also a wise precaution to fill up on blood before his first encounter with Damon after his brother decided to play a very poor game of Operation on him.

Coming home through the woods, Stefan didn't notice the white Chevrolet Tahoe parked off to the side down a ways the long drive, but he did spot Damon's soft-top in the drive.

Stefan took a deep breath as he stepped through the front door, wondering if Damon would be any better state to talk—when the sent of fresh, _human_ blood assailed his vampire senses. Despite just having consumed four rabbits, the sent of human blood made the back of his jaw ache with hunger.

He should have known better than to think it was a good idea to leave Damon alone the same day he found out about Katherine, but he'd let the girls convince him. Not that he protested hard. He just felt so helpless to do anything that could mend the pain and anger that the other vampire was feeling. He was guilty. He was out enjoying himself while his brother was broken-hearted. And this was punishment for being so useless when Damon needed him. He sped through the house, easily following the mouth-watering scent.

Stefan found Damon in the cozy sitting room, at the sideboard pouring himself a drink so board and casual as if the body of person wasn't lying dead on the rug in front of the burning fire, a stake sticking from his abdomen.

"No!" Stefan shouted as he recognized the man with horror. "Ric!" he flashed to the man's side, cradling his head, checking for a pulse in his neck even as the silence of a heartbeat rang painfully in his ears. "Ric?" he begged helplessly, stroking his cheek.

"Interesting," Damon mused, watching the scene curiously as he took a sip from his freshly poured tumbler.

Stefan snapped his gaze away from Alaric's slack, open-eyed face, and to his glib brother. "What did you do? Why? You said--"

"He tried to kill me, brother. What was I supposed to do?" he asked innocently. "Let him?"

"You didn't have to kill him!" Stefan shouted. The scent of the blood lost its meaning to his anger and unrestrained grief.

" _He's_ the one that tried to kill _me_ ," Damon touched his chest with his drink in question, "So why am I the one getting yelled at? That was _his_ stake, you know. He brought that with him and it's not some hastily-made, arts-and-craft stake either. He _knew_ , Stefan. He had to go."

"He saw you kill his wife! He knew what you were because you kill and you don't care—not the trauma or the pain you leave behind." He accused rightfully.

"You knew he was after me?" Damon said with some bite. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"I was dealing with it," Stefan said weakly, guilt and shame hitting him hard. No; he'd spent the weekend with Bonnie and Elena, having fun and forgetting. Shirking his responsibilities.

"No." He stood to loom over them and said in strict disappointment at his brother: "This was _me_ taking care of it—after you failed to." Damon kicked Alaric's foot, jostling his body.

"Don't touch him!" Stefan snarled with a flash of vamp-face.

Damon raised his dark brow in surprise at the unexpected response, before his expression smoothed out and a grin spread. "Ooh, does Saint Stefan have a thing for Teacher? Does Elena know? She'll be so heartbroken to know her former beau likes to take to bed with sin. Is that why you broke it off, I wonder."

"Why?" Stefan asked him, his face back to normal, searching, pleading as he rose to his feet and faced his amused brother; ignoring his comments. "Why do you have to be like this? Why can't it be like before, when we were human? Why can't we just be brothers again? I'm sorry, Damon." He grasped Damon's shoulders, squeezing desperately. "I'm sorry that I forced you to turn when I knew you wanted to die, that we were supposed to die together. But after I turned, I was scared, I didn't want to be alone—I just wanted my big brother." Stefan could see the cracks twitching away at his expression as Damon stood stiff under his brother's hands. "Please, Damon." Tears burned the back of his eyes. "Why can't we be brothers again?"

"I'm not angry at you for turning me, Stefan." Damon told him softly, looking back. "Maybe at the very beginning, but you were right, being a vampire felt fantastic. And then I was actually grateful after Emily told me that the spell worked."

Stefan shook his head in confusion. "Then wh--"

"Katherine." And his soft and sad expression snapped to one of twisted hate, fury, and hurt so sharply that Stefan stepped back in shock. "I loved her. I gave up everything for her. Would do anything for her. But it wasn't good enough, it's never enough—because she wanted _you!_ " he hurled his glass across the room, shattering it on the opposing wall, alcohol running down the wall. "She was giving you her blood behind my back. It was just supposed to be the two of us, _her_ and _me._ Not you! But she chose you! Everyone always chooses you, brother!"

It took him a moment to speak. " _I_ chose you," Stefan whispered, broken, but Damon had already sped away. Stefan stared forlornly after his brother for a moment before he turned his attention back to Alaric. He dropped down back onto the floor, pulling the man into his lap. "I'm so sorry, Ric." He whispered and wrapped a shaky hand around the stake handle in his abdomen, throwing it into the fire behind him, hearing the wet blood sizzle and pop.

The scent renewed as blood eked from the unplugged wound. But the blood wasn't even calling to him—the switch was. Just a bit of darkness, just some quiet.

This never should of happened. "I should have been here." He laid his cheek against Alaric's forehead, tears dribbling from his eyes. He just wanted to hold him for a minute; he still felt so warm but the vampire knew it was just the proximity of the fire.

Death didn't follow in Damon's wake, it followed Stefan. Wherever Stefan went, people starting dying unnaturally and suddenly thereafter. It was Stefan that brought along with him the shadows of death. Stefan was the curse.

He just wanted it to end, just wanted it to stop.

There was a abrupt sharp, choking gasp and suddenly Alaric was jolting in his arms—alive! Stefan jerked back in surprise, watching the man look wild-eyed as he coughed and scrambled at his wound—which was healed. Alaric looked rapidly around in panic and confusion until his gaze found Stefan's shocked one.

"What happened?"

"You were dead. And now you aren't." Stefan said numbly, "Damon must have turned you."

But Alaric was shaking his head rapidly. "No. No. He couldn't have."

"He didn't feed you any of his blood?"

He remembered dying, drowning in his own blood as Damon watched. He could still feel the shadow pains of it, even if the wound was no longer there. But he was positive that Damon never gave him any blood. "No." He swallowed.

"Then how--?"

"My ring!" Alaric said suddenly. "It-- it has to be. Isobel said that it would protect me from the things that go bump in the night and never to take it off. That must be it." He looked at it in amazement.

Stefan took the man's hand and examined the ring. It was gaudy, just like his and Damon's daylight rings. "It must be imbued with magic." He whispered. _Thank you, Isobel!_ He would be internally grateful towards the woman. Stefan squeezed his hand, looking back into his blue eyes.

"Hey, it--"

Stefan pressed his lips against Ric's, suddenly, firmly, expressing his immense relief and gratitude, before he pulled. "Sorry," he apologized as Alaric stared at him.

"No, no." Alaric gave his a little shake, tongue flickering over his lips. "It's... fine. Ahem," he cleared his throat, just seeming to realize that he was in the teen's lap. "I should-- I should probably go." Alaric clambered from the vampire's lap and Stefan sped to his feet, pulling the man up.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Stefan told him.

"Stefan, I just came back from the dead. I'm tired and hungry, and just want to drink and not think about the fact that I have to wake up at 6 tomorrow morning and deal with a bunch of teenagers for 8 hours."

"Exactly." Stefan agreed. "You just came back from the dead, Ric. That's not normal." Alaric gave him a pointed look. "Even where vampires are concerned. This isn't a vampire-thing, this is a witch-thing."

"What do you suggest then?"

"You shouldn't be alone for 24 hours at least. Think of it as concussion-watch—except you can drink alcohol and sleep."

"I can't just stay here, Stefan." Alaric said with exasperation. "Your brother literally just killed me," he pulled at his ruined shirt with a cringe, missing the look that crossed the vampire's face.

"I'm not going to try and excuse what Damon did," Stefan replied quietly, Alaric looked up at him. "You can trust me, Ric. I won't let Damon hurt you. I won't fail next time." His hands clenched into fists and he turned before the man could discern the pain in his eyes.

Alaric found himself following the vampire up the stairs and into his bedroom. "I _do_ trust you, Stefan." He said and watched some of the strain leave the back of his shoulders at the confession.

It was large and spacious, all the furniture looked antique but well-cared for with an en suite. Stefan went in search of something that would fit his slightly broader shoulders.

Alaric avoided looking at his bed and instead his gaze was drawn to a bookcase by the door that was crammed full of old leather-bound journals. He traced the cracked spines as he squinted to read the faded dates. 2004. 1973. 1950. 1920. 1872. His astonish grew as he continued to find diminishing years amid the disorganization. 1868. "Just how old are you?!" he blurted, turning.

"Perpetually 17 for the last 145 years, at your service." Stefan gave him a bow with a slight hand flourish, holding out a folded shirt to the man.

"That means you were turned in..." Alaric took it distractedly as he quickly did the math, "1864! You were alive when Jonathan Gilbert wrote that journal, weren't you?" Stefan nodded. "That's incredible. The things you've seen, the things you've experienced. You've actually lived through history! It's no wonder you know so much about it."

"You pick up a few things," Stefan shrugged, enjoying the excitement sparking in Alaric eyes. No need to divulge the pain, misery, longing, loneliness and loss because it hadn't been all that. Sometimes, he'd have these moments that made it all worth it—like now, actually.

"You've got to tell me sometime," Alaric said. "The stories you must have!"

"Sure," the teen smiled.

"At least you look like _that_." Alaric gestured at him, eyes flickering, referring to his age remark. "I had glasses and bad skin when I was your age; you never would have slept with me back then," he chuckled.

"Don't sell yourself short, Ric." Stefan said quietly as the man passed him to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

While Alaric changed and cleaned off the blood, Stefan flashed down to the wine cellar and grabbed a couple bottles of the good, hard stuff and some glasses. He was back before the man was done in the bathroom.

Alaric came out wearing Stefan's shirt, holding his own. The vampire swallowed as he saw him. "What should I do with this?" he questioned.

"Here," Stefan grabbed the plastic lining from his small trash can and went over, holding it open for him and careful not to breathe. Now that he wasn't overloaded with other emotions to drown out the call of hunger, it was starting to claw back to the surface even if it was just from the dry blood coating the shirt. Alaric's blood smelled amazing and he didn't want to think of the man as a happy-meal.

Stefan tied it tightly and opened the doors to the balcony, stepping out. Alaric watched with interest as the vampire calculated, staring into the pitch darkness and drew his hand back. He lobbed the plastic bag into the distance and a moment later a faint metal clang sounded as the trash found the garbage can across the lot, exhaling.

"That's impressive," the teacher remarked, but Stefan could see the silent question in his blue eyes as he came back into the room, closing the doors.

"Your blood; the smell of it was starting to make me stir-crazy." He explained quietly, feeling the shame slink in. "I've never been good around blood."

"Right," he tapped his nose, "A vampire, I remember." Stefan gave a soft chuckle and head shake. "So how do you feed?" Alaric asked curiously as they sat at the small writing desk and Stefan poured them drinks.

"Strict animal diet." Stefan reported. "It's like vegetarianism for vampires." He clinked his glass against Ric's before downing the entire glass while Alaric took a moderate swallow of his. Stefan refilled.

"Isn't that like trying to put a lion on a diet of fruit?"

"Close." He was slower with this glass. "Being a vampire—with the blood, the craving, the hunger... it's like being a drug addict. So you have to find that level, you drink, you feed, you sustain yourself, but you don't indulge—you refuse the call of the blood, the blood haze." He swallowed against his dry throat and finished off his cup, topping Alaric's as continued distraction. "I've never been good at resisting," he admitted, staring at the table top instead of Alaric. This was stuff he hadn't even really told Elena. "I'm just one of those unlucky vampires that are really susceptible to its call. So, in order to function properly, I take animal blood—like methadone. It keeps me functioning though obviously not as effective as human blood, it's not our natural diet so it makes me weaker, more susceptible to pain and takes me longer to heal." He took a sip and looked up, "But it keeps me at my most human, gives me the most control."

"That sounds tough, Stefan." Alaric finally said after a moment, finishing off his glass. This was not the response he had been expecting to get, not that he expected to die and come back to life either, or be sitting across from his one-night-stand, turned student, turned vampire. Guess it was one of those nights.

"So, the floor is yours, Ric." Stefan said instead. "Ask me anything you want."

Alaric blinked in surprise, definitely another invitation he hadn't expected. When he started on this hunt for the vampire that killed his wife and found Mystic Falls crawling with mysterious animal attacks, he never expected to find himself friendly with the creatures he intended to kill (not that he had intention of killing Stefan), let alone get the opportunity to question them.

The starving historian inside of him was salivating at actually talking to someone who experienced it. If that personal Gilbert Journal was porn, then this was _participation_. But all that could wait for now; there were more pressing present issues that needed answers.

"The journal that was taken, those vampires that wanted to release those other vampires..."

"You don't have to worry about that," Stefan reassured, putting his hand over Alaric's on the table, giving it a brief squeeze. "We got the information that we needed from the journal you copied; it was a grimoire that held the spell to break open the tomb that was underneath the burned church."

"Fell's Church, from the journal?" Alaric asked. Stefan nodded. "All the history books claim that it was union soldiers that were killed in the church fire but it was these vampires, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"So you destroyed this... grimoire," he waved his hand, "So the tomb couldn't be opened."

"No. We opened the tomb."

"I'm sorry, you what?!" Ric exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "You let the vampires out."

"No. Hey." Stefan stood and stepped around the table, he grasped Alaric's shoulders. "There was no danger. They were desiccated. They're all dead, Ric. None got out. I killed them with fire. The vampires who were trying to open it are all dead, too. There's no more danger. And we blocked the entrance so no drunk and hapless teenagers can get into trouble."

"You could have led with that," Alaric huffed, smiling nervously at him.

"Sorry." Stefan drop his hands, them brushing briefly down Alaric's biceps.

"Who's this 'we'?" he wondered after a moment.

"Me, Damon." He paused. "Elena." He could trust Alaric. "A--"

"Your girlfriend?" Alaric asked—to clarify and nothing else. He wanted the facts.

Stefan couldn't help the small smile that twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Ex-girlfriend. We broke up, but are still good friends." He ignored the whispered of doubt so quiet at the back of his mind.

"So she knows that you're--? I mean obviously if she was at the church with you." He was babbling like an idiot. "Is that why you broke up?" he cringed. This should be territory that he ought to be steering _away_ from, not towards. "Sorry. That's not--"

Stefan gave his head a little shake. He said softly, " _I_ broke it off. Being a vampire was a part of it, not that she cared. I love her, but I just can't love her like that."

"Ah." Alaric swallowed as he watched Stefan, something fluttering at the hollow in his throat. They gazed at each other for a moment before the teacher cleared his throat awkwardly. "Sorry. I interrupted you again. Before, I mean."

"And a couple witches who didn't want those vampires getting out into Mystic Falls just as much as the rest of us." Stefan picked up the thread easily.

"Obviously." Alaric agreed.

Stefan chuckled, "Obviously. It's always good to have the witches on your side."

"You said before that this was magic," Alaric raised his right hand and rubbed at the ring on his finger thoughtfully.

"I could ask." The vampire offered. "See if they'd agree to meet you."

"Or maybe that's just jinxing the whole thing," he mused.

"We don't know if this was just a one-off, Ric. Personally, I don't want to find out. It's better to be sure—especially with your... extracurricular job."

"You're right, it could come in handy. It certainly did tonight,"

"Are you sure you're okay?" Stefan asked. "You're not feeling dizzy or residual pain? Anything like that?"

"I really am fine, Stefan." He clapped the worried vampire on the shoulder. "It's been a long night and I'm just tired. It's going to be a long couple weeks with the Founder's Parade and everything. I just need some sleep." He started for the door with every intention of heading back to his apartment.

"You are definitely not driving in your condition." Stefan protested, stopping him. The hand on Alaric's chest was a stubborn force. It was such a relief to finally feel the man's heartbeat through his chest instead of just listening to it with his vamp-hearing. That previous silence had been so jarring he was nearly second away from turning it off before the ring brought Ric back. "You can take my bed. I'll make sure you get up early enough not to be late for class." He promised. "Please."

"Stefan--"

"Don't look so worried," the teen tried to joke. "My presence in the bed isn't part of the deal."

"This is really messed up, Stefan," Alaric confessed, laying his hand over Stefan's on his chest. "When we slept together, I thought you were human. If I had known--"

"I know." His voice came out slightly rough around the lump in his throat, the pain in his chest. Fought to not let Ric see it on his face. The man did not need his brooding teenage vampire identity issues.

He went to pull his hand away but Alaric squeezed it, preventing him. "No. Stop. Yes," he sighed, "If I had known you were a vampire, I never would have slept with you, just tried to kill you. The only experience I've had with vampires is your brother killing my wife. But you were human to me before you were a vampire. I got to know the real Stefan Salvatore, _am_ still getting to know him. You. And I'm glad. Though to be fair, I also never would have slept with you had I known you were only 17 years old," he added in wry ambivalence.

Stefan stroked his cheek with his free hand. "I'm glad you're not dead, Ric. Or undead. Just... alive. Vampirism isn't all that the fantasy books and movies make it out to be." He dropped his hand from Alaric's cheek and slipped his hand reluctantly out from beneath the one pressed against the man's chest. "Goodnight, Ric." He turned and started for the door.

Alaric felt helpless as he watched the vampire's retreating back and blurted: "Did you mean it?"

Stefan stopped but didn't turn around. "Mean what?"

"When we were together," he said after a slight hesitation. "That you hadn't been with someone for decades?" the brunette gave a slight nod. "Why me?"

Stefan furrowed his brow in confusion but he answered truthfully. "I couldn't help myself. I sat in on your lecture and just watching you up on that stage—it was magnetizing. I had to be near you, I needed to. Just talk to you, just for a bit." He gave a half shrug, a cover for himself more than anything. He hadn't felt the want pull at him so hard for a very long time, to _be_ with someone—then he returned home everything got all muddled with Elena(-looking-like-Katherine).

Stefan was not expecting it, so when Alaric grabbed his arm and spun him around, the vampire stumbled lightly into the man and into his lips—that hadn't been a consequence, but the teacher's intention.

Stefan couldn't help but sink into it instantly. The warmth, the taste that tingled against his lips as Ric flicked his tongue against them. He should put a stop to it, Ric must be in shock (like that kiss downstairs when the teacher had come back to life in his arms) and then with the drink. _Just one more minute,_ he let his own want take command of his action.

Dying (and coming back) did tend to put things into perspective. And Alaric was acting on it. His normal human response went out the window the night he saw a vampire kill his wife and dedicated the last two years looking for them. Well, he found them and like everything in the world and life, things were not always what you expected them to be. He never expected to sleep with a seventeen year old, or see the teen again. He never expected to die and come back to life. He never expected to want to sleep with a vampire, but he was willing to make an exception for _this_ vampire.

"Ric--"

"I'm as mature as I look, Stefan."

Stefan gave a light chuckle, searching the man's eye as he slowly closed the distance. Alaric waited and let him come, letting out an exhale through his nose as they finally connected. Stefan guided the man backwards into his room and towards his bed, his hands finding their way under the hem, stroking up his torso, dragging the material up. They broke the kiss for Stefan to pull the borrowed shirt off and drop it to the floor.

The rapid beat of Alaric's heart and the smell of his arousal fuelled Stefan's desire and hard cock. He pushed the man back onto his bed, kissing down the jumping pulse in his neck, across his chest, paying reverent attention to the right side of his torso where Alaric healed from his death, before the vampire trailed his lips and tongue further down.

He started to undo the man's fly when he was pushed away.

"Your turn," Alaric told him, working on his own confinement.

With a smirk, Stefan stripped from his shirt and pants to the approving gaze of the teacher. Both naked and erect, Alaric grasped his wrist and pulled the teen on the bed on top of him, kissing as he rolled them over and gave Stefan a similar treatment.

Stefan twisted his torso, scrabbling at the drawer in his bedside stand, yanking it open with enough strength to almost send the whole thing crashing onto the floor. He groped blindly inside, his focus shattering as Alaric continued to stroke and tease his throbbing cock with feather-light touches. He tossed the small bottle of oil onto the bed and continued to try to valiantly search for a condom he was sure he was never going to find but attempted to for Ric's conscious. Stefan didn't care, he would much rather feel the man inside him without the latex barrier; he was a vampire, he was clean, he could neither transmit nor contract even if Alaric was positive. The only value they held for the vampire was that it was a easier clean-up afterwards. It wasn't like you could catch vampirism through anal sex.

"Uhh!" Stefan cried out as Alaric pushed a slicked finger into his entrance and started to pump. He fumbled with the drawer before abandoning it all together as he begged for another finger and Ric obliged him. Alaric peppered the inside of his thighs with kisses, his stubble brushing against the skin as he crooked his fingers, finding that bundle of nerves inside the vampire, enjoying the faint flush on his chest. He added a third. "Nh."

Alaric finally pulled his fingers out and coated his cock with a few pumps of the same oiled hand, sighing at his own touch. Stefan watched with hungry eyes as the man guided his cock to his slicked and stretched entrance. The weeping head of his cock breached and he slowly started to push in—it was maddening!

Stefan wrapped his legs low around the dirty-blond's hips and pulled the teacher forward swiftly. Their groans collided as they were skin-on-skin and no space between.

"Shit, Stefan!"

"Mgh." Stefan's head fell back onto the pillow as Alaric grasped his taut thighs and started to thrust.

After feeling only pain, grief, and worry for so many consecutive days, this was exactly what the doctor called for. Connection and release. Intimacy. He reached above his head with one arm, bracing his palm against the thick oak headboard; his other reached for Alaric, needing some kind of other physical anchor between them besides the beautiful man's cock thrusting inside him.

"Ric!" he gasped, chest arching up as the man stroked his prostate. He could feel the _want_ building, the urge to pull Alaric close, bury his face in the man's neck—bury his fangs into the pulsing, engorged artery. _If you bite it just right, you could control the flow._ He could feel the burn of thirst in the back of his throat, the veins starting to pulse around his eyes. _Shit!_ Stefan grabbed the extra pillow next to him and pressed over his face as Alaric stroke him again and he lost control over his face.

"Stefan. Stefan." Alaric panted, slowing. "I can't with your face shoved in a pillow, it's disconcerting. C'mon." He tugged at the case, with reluctance, Stefan let him pull it away and immediately crossed his arms over his altered vampire face, struggling to 'put it away' as Alaric continued in a torturously slow pace. "Stefan." He could see the teen's fangs peeking out as he panted and the human leaned down, nuzzling his square jaw before he carefully kissed the fanged mouth.

Stefan let out a low groan, kissing back. His arms slowly dropping away and wrapped around his neck, fingers shoving into his short dirty-blond cut. He felt his fangs retract and his eyes cleared, gyrating his hips in clear order and Alaric started to pick up the pace again. The man pulled back for breath and he gazed into the lust-blown green irises.

Alaric was close. He wanted Stefan with him in climax so he grabbed the vampire's neglected cock between them and started to jerk the teen off in time with the thrusts. He reached his peak first, grunting Stefan's name into his chest. Stefan followed a instant later as warmth flooded him, ejaculating between their sweaty bodies as he cried out into Ric's hair.

Alaric slumped on top of the bushed vampire, spent and sated. He lazily kissed his collarbone as he finally, finally felt the night catch up to him, his eyes dropping.

"You planning to fall asleep right here?" Stefan mused, peeking down at his lover's face as his heartbeat slowed and his breaths evened.

"Mm." Alaric nodded. "That would be great." But he summoned enough energy to careful pull himself out of Stefan and roll off him onto the empty side of the bed. Hands over his head, his body arched as he stretch and slumped even more happily into the bed as Stefan wiped them clean with tissue. "Thanks," he mumbled and Stefan smiled as he watched him.

"Go to sleep, Ric." He whispered, pressing a kiss to his mouth as he pulled the blanket over the naked man. Alaric could do nothing but follow the instruction.

Stefan flitted from the bed to turn off the lights and lock his bedroom door and briefly to the bathroom before he was back under the blankets and pressed against Ric's side. He watched the man through the darkness before his own tiredness claimed him.

...

Alaric's nose twitched as a familiar scent wafted towards the slumbering man, calling to him. His nose was already gravitating toward the delicious scent, his still half-asleep body having no choice but to follow. His hand reached blindly until another took it gently and guided it to the full mug and brought it to his lips. Alaric took that first blissful swallow of strong, steaming, pure black caffeine. It coursed through his veins like a second blood source. He finally opened his eyes to find Stefan, with perfectly styled hair and already dressed for the day, perched on the edge of the bed giving him a amused smile.

"What if I had been a bad vampire?" Stefan teased.

"Then I would know that _my_ Stefan perished valiantly in the attempt to protect my life," Alaric returned in the same note, sipping from the mug, blue dancing over the rim.

"Perished, hm?" Stefan wondered lightly even as his chest fluttered at being _his_ anything. "Not simply incapacitated?"

"I assumed that was the only way a 'bad vampire' would have made it that far,"

And the teacher was right. "Now shower," he threw a thumb toward the en suite, "You have class to teach... Mr Saltzman." Stefan gave the man a leer as he said his name huskily and watched his blue irises be overtaken by pupils. He chuckled and stood up. "There will be more coffee for you when you get out," the teen enticed knowingly, which kicked the teacher into gear. He bit the inside of his cheek as he watch the human walk across his room naked.

While Alaric was in the shower, Stefan went downstairs to the kitchen to refill Ric's cup and refresh his own, while he put something in the toaster so the teacher would have something to line his stomach. When he'd woken up an hour before Alaric's wake-up call, he stretched out his senses but couldn't find his brother's presence in the house. Damon hadn't come home after their fight and Stefan was worried (50/50 of Damon lashing out and hurting an innocent bystander; and simply for his brother). Damon had swore to him that he wasn't going to tear through town and tear out everyone's throats; the vampire had kept to that promise aside from the incident with Alaric. While unhappy with his brother, he could understand that he was not at fault; Alaric had attacked him with the intent to stake. The fact that Alaric came back to life and was still human was a huge point in Damon's favour right now.

Stefan drank his coffee as he waited for the toaster. He thought it would be better to get Alaric out of the Boarding House before Damon came back. Of course he was going to have to tell his brother that Alaric came back to life, it's not like he wouldn't find out eventually either—the teen knew he wasn't going to be very chuff. And he was going to talk to Bonnie about the ring. He thought it best to keep whatever he had with Ric on the quiet; he knew Elena still had hope that once he worked through his feeling on the whole Katherine look-alike thing, that they would get back together. He hated to hurt her but he didn’t foresee that ever happening.

The toaster popped and he got a plate; taking it and the coffee back upstairs. Alaric was just stepping from the bathroom, hair dark with wetness, wearing his pants from yesterday and Stefan's borrowed shirt.

Stefan handed over cup and plate. "Coffee, as promised."

He took a drink of coffee before he looked down at the plate. "Pop tarts?" Alaric raised his eyebrows.

Stefan raised one of his own in return, "What, you don't like Pop tarts?"

"What? No, I do!" he held the plate closer. "It was just a question." He finished them in a couple minutes; he was starving! "Thank you."

Stefan flashed back down to the kitchen with the dishes while Alaric put on his shoes and went down the stairs at a more human pace. He pulled up short in the front hall as he came face-to-face with his sort-of murderer who had just returned to the Boarding House.

A flash of surprise went through the vampire's vivid blue eyes before his control took back over. "I killed you. You're supposed to be dead." Damon circled the man slowly like a shark, dissecting.

Alaric forced himself calm. He had the ring on his side if it came to it. "You're not very good at killing people, are you?"

"Is that a challenge?" Damon growled into his ear as he came back around to face him.

"Back off, Damon." Stefan warned, appearing behind his brother.

Damon didn't move. "Did baby brother make a bampi out of you?"

"What the hell is a bampie?" Alaric asked, but Damon ignored him, focusing his hearing tuning into the presence of his pumping heart.

"No, he's too saintly for that," Damon answered his own question, eyeing the dirty-blond intently. "No, this is a very interesting twist—you're still human. I know I killed you, I watched you die. So what the hell are you?"

"Like I said: you don't seem very good at that." Alaric told him.

Damon regarded him, secretly impressed and gave him a smirk. "You're two-for-two, Teacher. You sure have my little brother wrapped around your little finger. Count yourself lucky... but if you try and come at me again, I'll kill you—again—and make sure you stay that way."

"Whatever you say, man." Alaric stepped around Damon and passed Stefan, and through the front door.

Stefan was giving his brother a stony glower and Damon returned it with a glare of his own. The message was clear from either vampire: _We'll talk later!_ Stefan departed after the teacher but Damon spoke anyways at a regular volume, knowing his brother would hear:

"Was that your shirt, Stefan? So naughty! Do you think Elena will recognize it?"

~ **_T V D_** ~

When Stefan arrived at the school (separately from Ric of course, the teacher taking his car back to his apartment to change and get his things before heading to the high school; and the vampire took a jaunt through the woods for a couple squirrels before flitting to school), he could tell by the look on Elena's face and the way she came rocked up onto her toes at the sight of him, that she wanted to ask how it went with Damon (Bonnie was a little more subtle with a frown at the corner of her lips), but there wasn't time to talk before the bell rang and they had to get to class.

...

Stefan let Elena corral him at lunch, an arm looped through his, to the picnic table outside for lunch with Bonnie and told them the gist of what he came home to. Alaric going after Damon for killing his wife; Damon killing Alaric; Alaric coming back to life because of the ring.

"Well, that lasted a full day." Bonnie deadpanned, not at all surprised. No, what was intriguing was this ring that apparently brought their history teacher back to life.

Elena seemed slightly conflicted. "He's alright?"

He wasn't 100% on who she was asking for, so he answered for the man on his mind. "Ric seems to be." Stefan said; definitely seemed very robust thrusting into him last night. "I'm hoping."

"Ric?" Elena raised a plucked brow.

Stefan cleared his throat. "My brother killed him and he came back to life in my arms, I think that promotes us to a first name basis." He turned back to Bonnie, "Do you think you could look through Emily's grimoire, see if you can find out anything about the ring?"

"It's worth a shot," the witch nodded. "So what are you going to do about Damon?"

"I'm going to talk to him."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Elena shared a doubtful glance with her friend. "The last time you tried that, he tore out your liver."

Stefan reached out and rubbed her back. "I'll be fine, Elena. He just needs to process."

...

Stefan was forced to wait until the end-of-day bell before he could tell Alaric that Bonnie was on it as soon as she got home and would call with the news.

It was like he was a fish swimming against the flow as students streamed down the halls to the front doors of the school, eager not to spend one more minute in this institution. They had no idea! Stefan was 145 years old and had enrolled himself through countless high schools and universities to expand his mind, learn something new, curve the boredom so he didn't go off the handle. They should count themselves lucky that they just had four short years before they could really move on in their lives, not live in the same continuing cycle that the vampire was stuck in eternity for.

The scent of blood hit him like a jolt and he reacted instinctively, flitting the rest of the way to the history classroom despite stragglers in the halls where it was coming from. He slammed through the door, causing Alaric to jump and spin around to him in surprise, a wade of saturated tissues pressed to his nose.

"What happened?" he was in front of the man in an instant, protective hand on his shoulder, gaze hunting around the empty room for some invisible enemy. "Are you okay?"

Alaric blinked at him. "I'm alright, Stefan. It's nothing sinister, just a bloody nose."

"Nothing sinister? Just a nosebleed?" Stefan repeated. "You came back from the dead last night, Ric. There is no 'just' in this situation."

"I get nosebleeds sometimes, Stefan." Alaric assured him, giving the wrist on his shoulder a squeeze. "I'm human, it happens." He lowered the hand at his nose, throwing the tissues in the dustbin next to the desk. He took a clean tissue and wiped at his nose, it just came back with faint streaks of residual blood. "See, it's already stopped."

Stefan cupped his cheek, checking for himself before nodded. He sighed. "Sorry if I came at you strong, but seeing as the last time I smelt your blood, you were dead... I think it was warranted."

Ric gave a slight chuckle. "I get it."

"I came to--" Stefan cut himself off and turned his head to the side toward the open door, listening intently. He could recognize Elena's quickly retreating treads anywhere. He was careless in his fear when he'd smelt Ric's blood, left the classroom door open, zeroed in on the man and forgot his surroundings. Elena muse have seen them, well, how they were right now, standing so intimately together. He closed his eyes briefly in guilt.

"What is it, what's wrong?" Alaric questioned.

Stefan gave his head a little shake and turned back to the man. "Elena. She saw us."

"Shit." Alaric cussed and took an immediate step back from him, causing Stefan's hands to drop and disconnecting them.

Stefan felt the distance like a wide chasm that he needed to close between them immediately. "Ric--" he started to reach for the man, but Alaric didn't see it as he paced away in disquiet out of reach.

Stefan leaned back heavily on the edge of the teacher's desk, hands gripping the wood edges with white-knuckles as he stared at the toes of his boots. His head throbbed while he ignored the hungry itch scratching the back of his throat as the air held a lingering undertone of Ric's blood coming from the dustbin next to him.

"I'm sorry, Stefan." Alaric suddenly said and Stefan looked up at the man, his brow furrowed in confusion, his green eyes with a spark of hope as he straightened. "I screwed up. You might have been alive for over 145 years, Stefan, but it doesn't change the fact that you're still just a _17 year old **kid.**_ I'm 33 years old, _I'm_ the adult and I never should have let last night go on as it did. I'd just come back from being dead; I was in shock and to be honest... jealous when you brought Elena up. It was petty and it was unacceptable. I knew that there were still residual feeling from the first time at Duke and your recent break-up, as well as being upset about what happened with your brother…"

Stefan started to shake his head helplessly; he could talk to Elena, make her understand. The second time _meant something_. They were no longer strangers. They did it knowing full-well what the other was. It hadn't been some one-night-stand where they knew they would never see each other. He tried to speak, to stop the man from continuing but the lump in his throat was powerful and it crushed his vocal cords leaving him unable to get the words out.

"I appreciate your concern, but it can go no further this time." Alaric said quietly, but firmly, swallowing as he watched the light dim in the vampire's bright green eyes. "What I said the first time at the Grill still stands— _has to_ stand."

Stefan stood. He wanted to say so many things, but all that came out was a dull missive, "I have to go, Damon's expecting me. I came to tell you that I talked to my witch, she's going to look into the ring, make sure that it's safe." Original message relayed, he could only bear to look at the man for a moment before he turned and walked out of the classroom. As soon as he turned out of sight, he ran, his pounding steps echoing through the empty hallways. As the school doors slammed shut behind him, the loud clap swallowed Alaric's own shout of frustration and despair as he lashed out and booted the dustbin across the classroom. As soon as Stefan hit the pavement outside, he bolted at vamp-speed, he just ran with no predestined location in mind.

He wanted to run fast enough that he could leave the pain behind, but he knew that it wasn't a feat possible in the physical sense, this was all internal, invisible inside of him yet such a tangible pain—and all of it controlled with one simple switch.

Stefan did it again; he let his heart overtake his head and he paid the price.

Emily was right when she told him that vampirism could only ever be a curse for him. Even when he turned off his switch, he still felt the guilt as he ripped his victims apart and was compelled to piece them back together in a macabre display of normality. Even as the Ripper he _knew_ the guilt, shame, and suffering he would endure once he turned his humanity back on and so that was the thing that compelled him to keep the switch off and the Ripper in the driver's seat. It was a vicious cycle for him, but without Lexi, who would be able to snap him back next time?

When he finally stumbled to a halt on loose earth and grass, he was at the last place he expected to stop running at. The quarry where Emily had taken him and Damon to safety as they awoke in transition. Before that, it was where Damon had taken him to teach him how to swim. Where they swam and fooled around on those sweltering summer days. He had such good memories of his childhood with Damon here, his best-friend as well as his big brother, his hero. But those memories were back lashed with the worst one in his vampiric life, an hour after he was turned with their father's blood, it was here where Stefan made Damon drink and broke their brotherhood.

Damon was right; he always was in the end. They should have died, faded into death together.

Fiddling with the daylight ring on his finger, he let his head fall back and stared up into the blazing, burning sun glaring brightly down on him. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

He dropped his hand and hung his head, squeezing his eyes closed as sunspots clouded his vision. He pressed his finger and thumb pads roughly against the organs as they healed. He'd had many such despairing moments in the last 145 years that he had contemplated just taking off the ring, stepping into the sun and letting it consume him in the hellfire that he deserved for all the pain, suffering, and death he had caused—starting with his brother.

Though in these rare but present moments, there was one thing that always stopped him. Damon. On the handful of times where he was in such dark despair, Damon would come to keep his promise of an eternity of misery. There was always (and will ever) be a part of him that Damon appeared and stopped him because he didn't want to lose Stefan as much as Stefan couldn't bear to lose him; and then there was the part as Damon told it: " _How can I give you an eternity of misery if you are_ dead _, little brother? Stop being so selfish."_

Stefan headed back towards the Boarding House through the wood at a human pace. If he couldn't be with Elena how she wanted, if he couldn't be with Alaric how he wanted, the vampire was determined that he would have his brother back. 145 years of separation was long enough.

...

"I'm home," Stefan said needlessly as he walked into the Boarding House.

Damon made no response, but the teen vampire knew he was there even without using his heightened senses and went straight for the main parlor which was both the brothers' favoured room. The dark brother was lounging in the large leather chair by the fire, a tumbler of bourbon in hand.

"So, how's the boyfriend?" Damon asked, watching his brother go to the cabinet and pour himself a glass of whiskey. "Did it get a little tense in history class?"

"Damon, please." He sighed, sitting heavily on the couch. "Can you just drop it?"

The dark-haired vampire gave a dramatic sigh of his own. "A hunter is after me and he can't die, Stefan. That is of great interest to me."

"Please don't kill him," Stefan beseeched his brother. "He's not going to come after you again. Just leave him alone, you've already killed him once. That's enough."

"Tell me how he's alive, Stefan." Damon glowered at him.

Stefan sighed and took a drink. "It's his ring. There's some kind of enchantment on it. I asked Bonnie to look at Emily's grimoire, see if there's anything in there."

"Fucking witches," Damon drummed his fingers on the chair arm in annoyance. "Always judging, interfering, and screwing us over. Should have killed her myself when I had the chance."

Stefan exhale heavily and sat forward to put his glass on the on the side table. "Damon--"

"Uh-uh," Damon stopped him with a pointed finger. "I'm not in the mood for more of your preaching, Saint Stefan."

Stefan stood in frustration, hands clenched at his sides as he let his annoyance at his brother and his own hurt lash out of him for brief instant before he could rein it in and shove it back like always, "Why can't you just let it go for once?! Why does it always have to be 'food', below you, or your enemy? Aren't you tire--"

Damon sped to his feet and in front of Stefan in an instant. "I hate to have to repeat myself, Stefan."

"Can't you just let her go, for your own sake?" Stefan petitioned him; he didn't even have to say her name, for his brother to instantly know who he was referring to. "She already stole 146 years of your life, Damon. And every second you devote to getting your revenge on her, she's winning. You'll never find her--"

"I haven't been _looking_ for her." He hissed. "I'm like a hound with the sent of blood and fear. You of all people should know that about me better than anyone. I'll have her soon enough."

"--not unless she lets you," Stefan ignored him and continued on, "Not unless she needs something or to play more of her fucking games. She doesn't deserve the attention you give her. Let her go. Stay here. Live your life—not to hunt her down, not to punish me—but _for yourself_." He gripped Damon's shoulder, looking desperately into the ice-blue eyes. "This is our home, Damon. This can be our home again. You and me--"

"And settle for your sloppy seconds?" he scoffed. "I don't think so. This is your sick little game of house you're trying play at, brother." He shrugged the vampire's hand off. "I like the magnifying glass and anthill much better." He flopped back into the leather chair, finishing off his drink.

Stefan just stood there, staring at his brother. His undead body leached at the heat waves emitting from the fire, but he simply felt empty and cold. Damon sat there, almost expectantly, waiting for him to persist. His brother had asked him several times through their years as vampires why Stefan bothered, what was the point, it never went anywhere but towards his own misery. _I will **always** fight for you, _ was the brunette's vehement response each time, but Stefan just didn't think he had anything left to give.

All that determination he had scrounged together on the way back to the Boarding House from the falls, that lifeline—withered and shrunk, turned brittle and crumbled. "I'm _tired_ , Damon." Stefan finally whispered, hollow.

He turned and started to leave when Damon suddenly jumped up, grabbed him and pinned him against the wall next to the doorway, his arm across Stefan's chest like a steel bar.

Damon gazed intently at him with narrow, piercing, (worried???) eyes. "What the hell is wrong you? Still too little to sit at the grown-ups table, Stefy?"

"Just screw off, Damon." Stefan managed to shove his brother off him and back a step. "You can rest easy, The Stefan Suffering season is at the apex so just put your feet up, enjoy the show. Use this little respite in the writer's room to come up with some new, consuming misery for next season. Or who knows," he gave a sneer, "Maybe this is finally the series ending." He turned for the doorway.

"Stefan--?" Damon went to grab him, but Stefan flitted out the room and upstairs, slamming his bedroom door shut. "Stefan!"

Stefan locked the door behind him, leaning heavily back against the thick wood as his energy was sapped. If he expected Damon to come kicking the door down, he would have been wrong. Instead, he heard Damon leave through the front door, get into his Camaro Convertible and speed off down the drive.

He pushed from the door and his gaze went instantly, involuntarily to his bed. It was still unkempt from the previous night and this morning. His chest tightened as he approached, unable to stop himself as he stripped and crawled under the sheets.

He was just torturing himself. He consciously knew it, that this would not help ease the pain, yet he did it anyway, the memories flooding through him. His chest shuttered and heaved in silent, suppressed sobs, refusing to let the empty house echo his sorrow back at him mockingly. He bet Alaric wasn't in bed, losing control.

He never learned, no matter how many times he went through the same motions and expected different results. It was hard when the scars were not visible.

Damon was right, he did this to himself—every single time.

He couldn't even be bothered with the energy to write in his journal and he knew that that was a bad sign. Cocooned in the blankets, haunted by Ric's lingering scent, he fell into a restless sleep until the bright rays of the sunrise cut through his open curtain and blinded him awake.

When he climbed from bed, he made it straight away, smoothing out the wrinkles like wiping the memories away (if only it were that easy), before he showered and dressed. He passed Damon on the stair, who was giving him a look that he hadn't seen for such along time on his brother's face that he couldn't even put a name on it.

He started across the lot, bag strap looped over his neck when he heard a clang, his eyes followed his ears and they zeroed in on the garbage cans on the grass, one was knocked over and he could see a grey, fury body tearing into a plastic bag. Stefan flitted over, grabbing the racoon by the scruff of its neck; it screeched and hissed at him, its body writhing and whipping as it tried to get free of his grip.

He ignored it and toed the bag with his boot and saw the blood-stained material of Alaric's torn shirt. He vamped out and his teeth tore into the crazed animal viciously in a rage response and suddenly there was utter silence.

Stefan tried to stumble back from himself as it felt like he was suddenly coming back to himself out of some weird out-of-body episode. He had the foul taste of the garbage-eating racoon's blood coating his mouth and was holding the poor animal dead in his hand. The vampire quickly righted the garbage can, put the torn bag back in, and lay the body on top, replacing the lid like some macabre memorial.

His hands shook as he stepped back, spitting out the foul blood and wiping at his mouth. He felt ill and he wasn't sure if it was the act, the blood, or both. He didn't see his brother watching from the window as he moved away from the cans and started back down the drive. Stefan knew that it was probably not a good idea to go into town in his current unstable condition, let alone to school where two emotional triggers were waiting with a lot of collateral walking around, but he couldn't stay in the Boarding House where another (more in his face) prompt was.

So he walked down the side of the road toward town and school at human speed, using the time and peaceful open space to collect himself as the occasional vehicle whizzed by him. God, he wished Lexi was still alive, she'd know exactly what he needed to anchor him and not go off the deep end. But she was gone and never coming back.

He needed to talk to Elena, apologize. He should have went after her yesterday, but maybe it was better that he hadn't. He knew she would feel angry, betrayed, hurt, sad... and he just didn't think he could have dealt with it, been understanding, sympathetic with his own raging and crushed emotions. Plus, and he was ashamed to admit it, he was furious at the teenage girl—if she hadn't come back for god-knows what reason, Stefan was incoherently sure that Alaric never would of had a 'touch of conscious' about their relationship.

It was always something. His age. His vampirism. His sex. Stefan could never seem to win.

So entrapped in his inner turmoil the vampire didn't pay attention to the fast-closing rumble of the truck engine—too close. All he knew was that a moment later there was such pain as the left side of his back was struck with something fast and with force—his ribs shattering, broken splinters perforating soft tissue as he was flung from the side of the road down the embankment to lay at the edge of the wood that lined the road. Stefan let out a raspy, wet groan, registering that he must have broke his back for lack of pain and movement below his waist, before the black spots in his vision swarmed him into 'death'.

...

Stefan came back at the prompting of something soft, warm, and moist brushing intermittedly, but determinedly against any given space of his face. He grunted, feeling the entirety of his pain as he remembered being thrown from the side of the road. Someone must have clipped him as they drove by, they must have kept going or Stefan was sure he would have woke up in a metal drawer. With a bit of effort, and a grunt he managed to wiggle his toes; his spine must be on the mend. The soft petting on his face stopped abruptly with a puff of warm air and the vampire opened his eyes in surprise to find himself staring into a pair of deep brown, soulful eyes.

The large, ragged, wild mutt was on alert, slightly crouched as they regarded each other. It must have came upon him and thought to make a meal out of him. It was ironic, poor thing. Stefan slowly raised his hand, his recently healed skin smeared with blood. The dog's nose twitched and it dipped its muzzle forward, lured by the scent of his blood. It's warm tongue lapped at his fingers.

Somehow, he'd managed to entice the creature into his arms as he continue to let the dog lick the blood from his skin. He'd always avoided feeding on domestic house pets, that largely centered on dogs and cats—dogs and cats in general, actually. Even as the Ripper, he could tear through humans like... a dog with a chew toy ironically, but somehow he could never go after a dog or cat even if he'd been willing to drink animal blood without his humanity to hold him back.

But he needed to feed. He needed the blood. Needed to heal properly, to make the pain go away. Only when he felt the sharp nip of the mutt's canines at his neck, did his fangs descend from his aching gums and he bit into the muscled, fur-covered neck of the mutt. The dog yelped loud and sharp at the pain in his ear and he cringed. The animal's natural flight/fight instinct kicked in and it started growling, snapping and bucking in his arms. But he was stronger than the weakening animal, even injured, as warm blood flooded his mouth and awakened his hunger, making him drink deeper.

He carded his fingers through the mutt's long tangled fur, soothing the panicked animal as he continued to drink. Its struggle weakened, subsiding until it lay heavy in his arms, chest heaving; its racket turning into low whimpers and whines until even those turned to silence as the dog's heart gave out and the blood stopped pumping.

But Stefan wasn't done, he needed more and he knew the mammal still had more to give. He pushed his hand up under the ribcage and into the canine's chest, his hand wrapping around the unmoving, hollow muscular organ and massaged it, coaxing every last drop of blood he could get through its veins and into his hungry belly.

The vampire finally pulled back, his fangs retracting as he picked the stray hairs stuck to his wet tongue and lips. Stefan felt briefly sated from the larger than normal feeding before the nutrients of the blood went towards the conclusion of healing his broken body and cessation of the provided pain.

He was melancholic as he gazed down into the close-eyes, slack muzzled face of the wild mutt in his arm; it was the way of life—he'd feed from the animal as surely as it attempted to do him in order to survive. It just so happened that the teen vampire was the stronger of the pair.

He had no idea how his vampire blood might affect the animal upon death, so Stefan ripped the mutt's heart out, ensuring that it did not come back in some sort of animalistic vampire state. Surprisingly there was only blood around his mouth and covering his hand and wrist that had been in the dog's chest cavity. He picked the carcass up, cracking his newly healed spine as he straightened. He took the animal beyond the tree line and gave it a proper kind of burial.

He didn't even think of heading back to the Boarding House, he didn't see the reason. His clothes were only slightly battered from the fall, the strap on his satchel broken but that was no cause for concern; it simply appeared as if he'd been roughhousing on the grass. This feeding was a clear, conscious choice, unlike the episode that had overtaken him at the garbage cans with the racoon with Alaric's bloody shirt—that had been some act of savage territorial response. But he felt more in control now, confident and calm as he blurred down the road.

Without even having to check his cell for the time, he could already tell by the sun favouring the west that it was hours passed noon. School would be out (thankfully), so he headed for the Gilbert house, slowing to a human speed as he hit the neighbourhood.

He threw out his senses as he approached the house, Jenna's Mini wasn't in the drive and there didn't appear to be anyone home. The vampire wasn't going to let that deter him. Stefan went around the side of the house, and pulled himself into the tree that grew outside Elena's window, jumped the short distance to it, hanging onto the outside sill as he pushed the window open and climbed it.

This was not the first time he'd done this. Closing the window, he sat on the cushioned stool at her dressing table to wait. The inside frame of the mirror was framed with photos: of her parents, Jeremy, Jenna, a group shot with her, Bonnie and Caroline, even one with her and Matt. And then there was a picture of him. He was surprised he never noticed it before. She must have taken it of him when he was unaware.

He'd never been very good with getting his picture taken now that he was a vampire. It was kind of counterintuitive as a vampire, especially if you wanted to returned to a certain place. It must have been when they'd just gotten together; he looked happy, optimistic. Now? His green gaze shifted from the picture to his reflection in the mirror. It had taken 14.6 decades but that sanguinity that had encompassed his move through undead life was finally diminished—it had taken the span of four days.

He was pulled away as he heard Jenna's car and shortly after the front door as Jenna, Elena, and Jeremy returned home. Jeremy went to the living room, turning on the TV, Jenna went to the kitchen calling for a vote on super, the siblings shouted out differing answers and Jenna decided chicken and rice as Elena came upstairs.

She opened the door and spotted Stefan, freezing mid-step in the doorway.

"Hey," he said quietly.

The sound of his voice unfroze her and her lips pursed as she quickly closed her bedroom door behind her. "What are you doing here?"

"To talk, explain." He said, following her movements as she tossed her bag at the foot of her bed.

"What's there to explain," Elena said stiffly.

He stood. "I know you saw us, Elena. Me and... Ric." He ignored the ache in his chest as he said his name and watched her shoulders tense the same in response.

"You have a thing with Mr Saltzman. What else is there to say?" she sat on the edge of her bed, taking off her sneakers, doing everything she could not to look over at him.

"I'm sorry." He told her sincerely and she looked over at him in surprise. So much for that then. "It hasn't even been two weeks since I broke it off with you, I didn't mean to hurt you."

She stared at him. "How did it happen? He'd only been here a couple weeks. I didn't even know that you liked... guys, too." She said awkwardly, uncomfortably.

Stefan's hands tightened into fists at his sides, shoulders stiff as he regarded the girl. He didn't think Elena was homophobic; maybe it was just because it was him. "145 years is a long time, Elena. If you think that doesn't change you, then you're wrong." Sex wasn't something he indulged in often and sex with a man was even more rare; but sometimes, like with Ric, it was something that he desperately needed.

"He's too old for you anyway." She remarked, standing.

"I'm a 162, Elena." He gave an incredulous scoff. "It's the other way around, I think."

But Elena shook her head. "You're still only 17 years old, Stefan." She unwittingly repeated what Alaric had used to break this thing between them. "He's our teacher, you're his student. It's not appropriate. You should date people your own age— _our_ age."

 _What about mentally?_ he wanted to demand. _What about maturity?_ He felt so old, he _was_ so old. He'd lived through so much, experienced so much in his undead life. There was no way a innocent **child** could understand, could contend. He needed a man, he needed an adult. He wanted Ric.

Somehow, he couldn't seem to correct her that he and Alaric were no longer together, if they had ever truly been together in the first place. It hadn't even been long enough to think about even bringing up the question. It just was.

"I was wrong," she said suddenly, "When I said that I understood. I don't. I don't understand why we can't be together. We love each other. Is it because I'm human? Then I'll become a vampire," she said determinedly. "You can change me and you won't have to worry about losing control around me." She closed the distance between them. "We can be together forever." She laid her palms on his chest, gazing up at him as he stared back at her in horror to this solution. "You and me."

"Elena, n--" was all he was able to choke out.

She sneezed. "Sorry," she said in embarrassment. She furrowed her brows. "Are you covered in dog hairs?" she took a step back as she sneezed again. She pressed the back of her wrist to her nose. "I'm allergic."

"Sorry," he immediately stepped back.

She shook her head, grabbing some tissue from her nightstand and blowing her nose. "Why are you covered in dog hair?" she squinted at him, taking in the soiled tint of his appearance for the first time. "Actually, why does it look like you've been rolling around in the dirt with a dog?"

Stefan licked his lips, pulling his t-shirt away from him as he looked down at it. His first instinct was to fib, he knew she would be horrified by it. But when he looked back up at her, thought about her turning, it was the last thing he should do. "It was some stray, wild mutt in the woods. Someone hit me with their car earlier, I had to feed."

He could see the worry and concern bloom on her face, before it was quickly cut across her face with something else that he didn't think he would have been able to catch if he wasn't a vampire as the previous sentence sunk in. The teen girl dabbed her watering eyes with the tissue, using it as a shield as she quickly schooled her features; but it was too late, he'd already seen it—dismay, revulsion, sickness.

"Just say it, Elena." He accused snarkily. " _'That's terrible. How could you? You're a monster!'--"_

"That wasn't what I was going to say," she protested.

"I'm a vampire, Elena." He reminded her. "That's the only reason I can be standing here saying this to you right now in the first place—either because I was born in 1846 or because I never would have been able to survive that hit and run if I'd been human in the first place—left down the embankment at the side of the road like I was nothing... broken spine, shattered ribcage, splintered bones, punctured lung. I was essentially dead, I experienced that death, Elena. A rabbit or two wouldn't have healed me properly; I needed more blood that the dog gave me. It wasn't so different from me; I was an injured, easy meal. If I hadn't acted when I did, it would have.

"I'm a vampire," he repeated, "That's what we do. We _feed_ on _live_ things, blood. If it's not _dogs_ or fluffy bunnies, then it's _humans_ , _people_ — **you!** "

"You're trying to scare me," Elena accused, crossing her arms.

"Yes!" he shouted at her and she couldn't stop the slight flinch at his sudden outburst.

He wanted to hate her, but he could never do that. He wanted to snatch the vervain-filled locket from around her slim neck and _compel_ her to not want to be with him, to stop loving him in a way he could never properly return, to have a normal life—but he couldn't mess with her mind, memories or heart like that even if he was at full capacity of his Power. He would not manipulate her (even if it was for her own good) like Katherine had to him.

He sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. "You've watch me kill in front of you and you didn't show as much horror as you did when I told you I fed on a dog." He forced his fists to unclench at his sides. "I love you, you're right, I do, I just can't love you the way that you want me to, Elena. I just can't, I wish so much that I could because you deserve that." Stefen beseeched her to understand, "But I will never and can never turn you into a vampire. You deserve to live a life, kids, happiness. You'd never get that with me..." He held his breath, staring at her, his green eyes silently pleading that she finally understand.

"I don't know that I can be friends with you and not _be_ with you." Elena confessed finally in a hurt whisper, her brown eyes shiny this time from unshed tears and not allergies. "It's too hard, it hurts too much. You should go, Stefan." She went to her bedroom door and opened it. "I need time, space."

Stefan looked sadly at her for a moment before he nodded in acceptance. "I really am sorry, Elena." He whispered as he moved passed her in the door. She said nothing as she followed him down the stair. He glanced over his shoulder at her miserably as he headed for the front door, only to pull up short as a blond man stood there when a second before seemingly not. He must have arrived while he was talking with Elena because he hadn't noticed him earlier when the other's returned home.

"And who would you be?" the blond man asked.

"Oh, Stefan!" Jenna looked at him in surprise as she came out of the kitchen. "Did you just get here?"

Stefan shook his head. "He was just leaving, Jenna." Elena answered for him.

"Are you sure?" the woman asked. "Supper's almost finished—I could put down another plate?"

"Thank you for the offer, Jenna, but I should really get going." Stefan told her politely, his intention clear but the unnamed man continued to unobtrusively block the front door.

He stuck his hand out. "John Gilbert, Elena and Jeremy's uncle. Stefan, was it?"

"Stefan Salvatore." Stefan automatically grasped his hand in a shake.

"Salvatore. Any relation to old Zach Salvatore up at the Boarding House?" John held his hand firmly, his ring cutting into his hand.

Stefan felt the hair on his nape raise on end and felt uncomfortable under the man's blue-eyed scrutiny. "My uncle." Stefan wanted to pull his hand free, but it was like he was paralyzed by the man's grip, his vampire strength sapped.

"I have to stop by sometime, say hello. It's been a while since I've been back home."

"Sorry to say it will be a while longer. Zach moved away over two months ago for work." It was the lie that bloomed when Damon charmed his way in with the Mayor's wife and the town Sherriff to get into the Founders Council after Damon killed Zach in a fit of rage when Stefan locked his brother in the cellar. Stefan lay their uncle to rest in the family crypt.

"Ah, that's too bad--"

"Like I said," Elena interrupted, grasping Stefan's arm and pulling the vampire out of John's hold as she glared at her annoying uncle, "Stefan was just leaving."

"Right. Sorry 'bout that." John smiled apologetically and even opened the door for Elena to usher the teen out.

Stefan stumbled a little down the porch steps, feeling like he had sea legs as he looked back to Elena shutting the door promptly. That had been... disconcerting to say the least. He didn't pay any attention to the dark blue, recently washed truck that was parked behind Jenna's Mini in the drive.

This had gone nothing like he had hoped it would. He wanted to mend the rift between him and Elena but found out that his misgivings were proven right—Elena wanted to be with him, at a concerning level. He never should have gotten with the girl romantically. When he compelled her to forget him after he pulled her from the sinking SUV at Whickery Bridge, he should have left it at that. He had selfishly trashed her normal life, broken her heart.

A familiar blue Prius pulled up alongside him on the sidewalk. "Bonnie?" he ducked down to spot the teen witch through the open window.

"Hey, wanna ride?" She leaned across the empty passenger seat and opened the door; it was a rhetorical question—Bonnie wanted to talk. "Come on." She sat back as he pulled it open and sat, his broken satchel going into the footwell. "Seatbelt," she reminded him. "Safety first. Even vampires can break their backs flying through the windshield."

Stefan snorted quietly at that. "Don't I know it." But he clipped the strap across his chest and waist.

"What do you mean?" Bonnie shot him a look from the corner of her eye before she pulled from the curb and back into the empty residential street.

"I was hit by a car this morning on my way to school." He looked out the window. "Killed me for a while."

"What?" she exclaimed in concern, "Are you okay?"

"It's fine, my meal just walked right up to me." He said. He heard her sharp intake of breath and turned to look at her aghast expression. "Not the person who hit me, they just kept driving."

"That's terrible," she said.

"It was probably better that way." Stefan assured. "No, it was some wild mutt that thought I tasted good."

"Oh." She said disconcertingly.

"It was a first for me too," he said softly.

"Are you okay?"

"It's been a difficult last few days," he admitted.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bonnie offered.

"I'm surprised that Elena didn't call you last night."

"What do you mean? Did something happen?" Stefan sighed. "Stefan?"

"Ric--" he started.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Bonnie interrupted. "But your phone's been going straight to voicemail."

"Why?" Stefan straightened, turning towards her. "Did you find something?"

Bonnie nodded. "It looks like Emily was the one that spelled the ring to bring back the wearer from the dead. There wasn't anything really about the effects of it, but I think it's safe to assume prolonged use—meaning dying and the ring bringing you back—would have some sort of influence. I mean, he's human, when he dies, he goes over to the other side, crosses over. You're not usually supposed to come back after that, especially with magic. I already told this to Mr Saltzman at school today—be careful and try not to die. Especially if it‘s not by a supernatural force, otherwise he will stay that way."

"Good advice," Stefan swallowed against his dry throat, still worried that maybe that nosebleed was more than just a nosebleed. Trying to distract himself, he fished his cell from his jeans pocket. The screen was cracked and the screen stayed black when he tried to activate it. "Must have broke in the crash, I'll have to get a new one." He put it in his bag.

"Stefan?" she prompted at a four way stop.

"I knew Ric before he came to Mystic Falls as a history teacher," he admitted. Bonnie felt like the only one that he could talk to right now; he trusted her with himself so vulnerable and open.

"You did?"

Stefan nodded. "It was just before the summer, I was passing through North Carolina on my return home to Mystic Falls, I ended up at Duke U. and sat in on one of his lectures." Stefan gave a small smile. "He was a professor there. I introduced myself—well, a simile of a human version of myself—we got to talking over food and one thing led to another." He waited for the shock, the outrage, disgust. But when he looked her, her expression was open, curious, and the raise of her curved brow silently prompted him to continue his story. "I was gone before he woke up and went home. I never expected to see him again."

"And then he showed up here as the new history teacher," she nodded knowingly.

"Yeah. He realized I was seventeen and horrified. I accepted that he wanted nothing to happen, even if I might have. I was fine like that, it was better that way. But then he saw and recognized Damon at the '50's dance while we were trying to lure that vampire out who had a thing about Katherine. He made the connection, found out I was Damon's brother, put the pieces together that I was a vampire as well."

"How did he take that?" she asked.

"He almost killed me."

"What?" Bonnie jerked the wheel, quickly correcting it, shooting him a look.

"He didn't seem to want to, I just caught him by surprise when he was expecting trouble and was ready for it. He told me about Damon and his wife, I tried to warn him away from Damon for his own safety. But he really helped us out, it was his copies of the Gilbert Journal that lead us to Emily's grimoire.

"He went after Damon anyway—and I don't blame him." He said quietly. "Damon killed him and that was it, I thought I'd lost him and it was all my fault."

"Stefan," Bonnie chided in protest. "It wasn't your fault--"

"I should have done more." Stefan denied. "He never should have died. It was only by the stroke of providence that Ric was wearing that ring. When he gasped to life in my arms, I thought Damon had turned him. And I hated myself for how glad I was that my brother gave him our curse, but Damon didn't—Ric was alive, his heart beat, he was still human." He took a shuddering breath. "But then I was worried, you know, about the ring. I'd never seen a ring before that could bring people back from _death_ , even if it was magic. I didn't know what kind of affect that would have on him, so I thought I should keep an eye on him for 24 hours at least."

"That was smart," Bonnie encouraged quietly, but Stefan shook his head.

"I should have let him go home like he wanted to, sleep off the shock in his own peace. He would have been safer there from Damon than he was at the Boarding House with me. But I talked him reluctantly into it. I was selfish, just like Damon always says."

"You're the most selfless person that I know, Stefan, alive or undead."

Stefan snorted. "That's because you only know the two of us. We slept together again, Bonnie! It was so stupid, but I couldn't have stopped myself even if I wanted to—and I didn't. I shouldn't have let it happen; it was the shock, the adrenaline—that need to do something to prove to yourself that you're actually alive."

"Is that what you believe?" she asked him.

He blinked at her, surprised she asked that. No one ever asked him, they just told him and that was that. "I-- I don't know," he confessed slowly a moment later. "Maybe, it's better that way." He gave his head a shake and forced himself not to get sidetracked with that can of worms; he'd already made his choice on the matter. "I went to find Ric after school yesterday, tell him that you were looking into it, but I found him with his nose bleeding and I freaked out," She nodded her head understandably, "Elena saw us." He squeezed his eyes closed briefly. "And Ric... he realized what happened was a mistake, that it never should of happened, that it was inappropriate."

"I'm so sorry, Stefan." Bonnie whispered sympathetically.

Stefan cleared his throat. "So I spiralled a little, had another fight with Damon, a restless night of sleep. Got hit by a car and fed on a dog. I went to Elena's to explain, but I don't think I fixed anything, just made it worse. I broke her heart—again. She kicked me out. I think it's better that way," he whispered brokenly.

"Stefan--" Bonnie quickly, pulled over the car to the side of the road, throwing it into park. She unclipped her seatbelt and twisted in her seat. "Stefan, hey." She put a hand on his knee, "Don't say that--"

"It's true!" Stefan said firmly. All the hurt and pain, the hard truths that he'd drowned into silence with the mutt's blood, were now bobbing back to the surface aggressively with the violent undercurrent of his heightened emotion as he verbally stripped away his own shields. "I never should have gotten involved, with either of them— _any_ of you. I've gotten so many people hurt and killed. I was kidding myself to think that I could come back, make this my home again, create a life here, be with _people_. To think that I could be _normal_ , have relationships— **the** relationship… love." His voice broke on the word and her own chest ached for him. "It's different for you, Bonnie, your relationship with the supernatural and that is a great thing. I am so grateful for that," he put his cool hand over hers on his knee and squeezed it. "You get to _live._ And I've finally realized where I belong." He let go of her hand with pained reluctance. "You should check in on Elena, make sure she's okay, that she doesn't do something reckless." Stefan advised softly, one hand reaching for his bag, the other to press the belt release. His intention of leaving was very clear and the witch reacted fast, instinctively.

" _Seguro_." Bonnie chanted suddenly and the locks on all the doors engaged, Stefan's seatbelt locked and the clip jammed, there was even an invisible force field over the open window to prevent from escaping that way—which he felt desperate enough to try at the moment. To run.

"Bonnie, what are you doing?" he questioned her when it looked he wasn't going anywhere any time soon, not until she willed it.

"I'm not going to let you run away, Stefan." She told him with sincere ferocity and determination. "You're my friend—even if you are a vampire," she teased with a wink.

"It's always good to have a witch on your side," Stefan whispered with a small smile and watery eyes as he looked at the teenage witch in veneration, appreciation; he didn't know what he could have done to grant such devotion from the witch but knew that he would never do something to break it.

She gave him a smile. "You're not alone. If you don't have it in you to fight right now, then I will do it for you."

"You're an amazing person, Bonnie Bennett. Don't let anyone ever tell you anything else, and if they try—just show them how kick-ass you are."

"I have an idea," she brightened, shifting in her seat with confidence as she turned on the blinker, did up her seatbelt and pulled into traffic.

"What?"

"It's a surprise,"

He didn't question her further; he trusted her. _Lexi, I really wish you could have met Bonnie; I think you two would have been friends. A force to reckon with, unstoppable in keeping me in line,_ Stefan thought to his oldest friend as he watched one of his newest. _I must have done something right somewhere along the line to have the two of you come into my life when I needed you the most._

tbc...

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seguro = secure, safe, lock etc.


	4. CHAPTER 3: Interlude 1

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Alaric flagged The Grill bartender for a refill of his double. It was too early to drink, in public at least, but he needed it. Last night he had the decency to get blasted in the privacy of his apartment and went to class with a hangover—using a surprise pop quiz as an excuse to not have to stand up and actually teach something.

He was on edge the whole day; several scenarios going through his throbbing brain. If this was a _normal_ situation, i.e. Stefan was not a vampire, he was sure the Sherriff would make an appearance and taken him away in cuffs—Elena held all the power in this entire affair to make that happen. Alaric knew that it wasn't him that prevented her, but Stefan, his vampirism and her love for him. If the Council found out that he was a vampire, they would hunt him, either killing him in the end or driving him from Mystic Falls.

Elena had not attended class but he had glimpsed her once or twice around the school today. Stefan hadn't shown up at all. It was about as much as the history teacher/amateur vampire hunter expected.

He'd let the rush of dying and coming back to life in Stefan's arms, control (or more, lose control) of his lust for the vampire teen. He was unable to help himself, Stefan just drew him in—as a person, as a vampire, a man after his own historical heart. He just wanted to consume the brunette; body, soul, and mind.

Did Stefan being a 145 year old vampire change the fact that he was still a 17 year old boy?

"Alright, spill, Teacher." The last person on the planet slid onto the stool next to him, flagging the bartender for his usual as he faced Alaric. The teacher silently glared and Damon flashed his ice-blue eyes.

Alaric snorted, taking a drink from his fresh glass as the bartender slid their orders across. "I'm on vervain, you can't compel me."

"Maybe not, but I can still cause you pain. There's not an ill bone in my brother's saintly body so of course he'd beg me not to kill you even though you broke his heart. And that magic little ring says it won't matter if I get a little bit carried away with that pain, either." Damon responded without trip or qualm, sipping his bourbon.

Alaric expression tightened at the mention of the vampire teen, his grip on his glass hardening. "You don't scare me, Damon. Ring or not. What is between Stefan and I is none of your business."

"That where you're wrong. Stefan is my little brother and that's all the incentive I need to involve myself." Damon corrected. "I don't care that you're 'older' or even that you're a vampire hunter that tried to me (that was revenge, a language I know and speak well)—but you hurt Stefan and nothing will save you. Not your ring. Not even my brother's wish that I don't harm you. That all goes out the window if my baby brother turns off his humanity or worse..." Damon flashed his vamp-face in the shadows of the bar, "I'm gonna be coming back for that ring—only I'm going to go through your fingers first. One by one like the fucking three little pigs." He polished off his glass and stood. "Figure your shit out. Stop toying with my brother with your existential crises. You slept with a vampire, grow some balls, get over it. Just a polite warning..." And clapped his on the back with enough vampire strength to force Alaric's chest into the edge of the bar and leave a bruise the shape of his hand to show up later as he left.

"Shit," Alaric grimaced, he deserved worse than that. He rubbed his chest as he flagged the bartender, but as the man refilled him and went to turn away, the teacher stopped him with: "Leave the bottle," after a pause the guy left the bottle and left the dirty-bond to wallow in his mid-life crises, he was sure the vampire-hunter thing was a mental break.

Alaric needed to fix this, it had only been a day and already it was much to long.

If Stefan was human, then he really would be human right now, if they wanted to continue the relationship then they would only have to be patient and wait until graduation and they could be together openly—and Alaric would neither be arrested nor fired.

But Stefan was a vampire, he would always be 'perpetually 17' as he said himself, but only a tight circle of people new this fact. Alaric wondered if the concept would still be solid, could his conscious cope? Wasn't that why he broke it off in the first place, or just fear.

He was a selfish old bastard. He'd used Stefan both times: first to plug and curb his loneliness, to connect with someone; the second, to confirm that he was in fact alive, that it was real, that it was reality.

It would simply be easier for everyone if they weren't together. Save both of them the heartache and the trouble. Stefan was a vampire, Alaric was not, and he didn't see himself with any plans to become one in the future. Their relationship would be doomed and on a ticking clock from the very beginning. Would it be worth all the pain in the end?

_tbc..._

_**~ The Vampire Diaries ~** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of protective/brotherly Damon? Don't worry, there is much more where that came from!


	5. CHAPTER 4

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

Stefan sat on the floor in bare feet, flannel pants, and white wife beater; his back was to the blazing fire, his legs crossed under the low coffee table. His chin rested on his folded arms as he watched the comet goldfish dart around his new home in the fishbowl. Stefan could just watch him forever—and had been doing that ever since he'd gotten home, showered and cleaned up from the day's events. While he was out with Bonnie, he even got himself a new bag and cell phone to replace the broken ones.

He watched the fish, dart into the hollow little treasure chest, around the astronaut figurine, fins brushing against the pebbled bottom as it lipped at the gleam of his ring. And Stefan found himself filled with a child-like excitement for it, something he hadn't felt since Damon had joined up to try and please their father back when they were human.

Stefan could hear the car's engine as Damon pulled up the drive, the headlights flashing through the slim crack at the center of the thick closed curtains on the stained windows at the front of the house. The front door open and shut a few moments later followed by heavy-boated steps. He wondered what mood his brother would be tonight. The hadn't talked since their fight last night.

Stefan didn't react as Damon stood briefly in the entryway, regarding him sullenly, waiting for him to break the silence. The teen vampire had no intention to do that; he didn't want to fight any more, so he was going to let Damon come to him for once.

"What is that?" Damon finally said, irritation in his tone like Stefan had forced the question out of him as he came down the short steps from the landing.

"Bonnie got him for me." Stefan had a small smile on his lips as he cocked his head in his brother's direction but didn't raise his head. "I'm calling him Salvatore; it's like he's part of the family already."

Damon lounged on the arm of the thick leather armchair, watching the vampire with lightly narrowed blue eyes. "Well, I can already tell you're working up to something—so let's hear it." There was something off with his little brother (other than the mental break he was clearly experiencing). It was glaring Damon straight in the face, yet the dark-haired vampire could not seem to place it. It was fast annoying him and he gritted his teeth as he glared down at the teenager.

"Did you know that goldfish have the memory span of 1 hour and 28 minutes? He's not going to know me long enough to hate me." Stefan sprinkled food flakes over the opening and into the water, watching the clueless fish swim around the small bowl, eating the flakes as they slowly sunk. "Did you also know that I've never--"

"What the hell happened to you?" Damon interrupted. "This morning I watched you Rip into a racoon and now I come home and your like-- like--" he waved a hand at his brother helplessly, " _This_! If I didn't know better, I would think you're on something. Did you take out a human?" he accused suddenly.

Stefan straightened and blinked at his brother in surprise. "Of course not!"

Damon narrowed his eyes in regard at the teen vampire, before he gave a little nod of acceptance at the answer. "What did you do then?"

"I've fed on people, feed so hard I tore them apart. I've run through the woods like an animal feeding on rabbits, wild pigs, deer... not once in my life as a vampire, have I ever fed on a dog."

"What are you on about?"

"I did that today." His voice grew low and claimed a distant, almost detached quality to it as he ruminated earlier today with his brother. "Not in some minor Ripper episode or out of desperation. I mean... something happened, but it was licking blood from my face, it obviously thought I was dead--"

Damon flashed to his feet the instant he heard blood, looming over the teen vampire. "Someone attacked you?" he growled.

Stefan looked up at his brother and shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't call it an attack, more like an accident. But that's not the point--"

"That is exactly the point, Stefan! You get hurt, someone hurts you—you tell me!" he shouted in frustration, "You don't keep it to yourself!"

"Why do you suddenly care?" Stefan wondered, there was no accusation or venom in it, he was simply curious.

Damon's expression shuddered down and his lips tightened in reply, emotional moment gone. The brunette sighed in defeat and disappointment as he watched Damon back up the few steps and flop into the leather armchair. Stefan gave his head a little shake and turned his head to watch Salvatore swishing around the bowl, his little scales reflecting different shades of orange from the flicking firelight on his sleek body.

"It was different," Stefan whispered finally. "I coaxed it to me, got it to trust me and just as it was about to tear into my throat, I bit into its. I drained it, pumped every last drop down my throat myself. There was no tearing hunger or loss of control, I didn't fight it, myself. For the first time in a long time, I felt connected, satisfied."

His brother looked even younger than 17 with his hair wild and fluffy, dry from shower and not coifed. "Maybe because you actually drank your fill in one sitting, not taking little sips from fluffy bunnies every other day like some insecure anorexic teenage vampire?" Damon suggested helpfully to receive a glower from his brother. "Since we're sharing our days," Damon said sarcastically. "You'll never guess who called an emergency Council meeting,"

Stefan wasn't surprised that Damon was not so overtaken with meaning by the experience as he was himself. He rolled his eyes and deadpanned: "I give up. Who called an emergency Council meeting?"

"Jonathan Gilbert--"

"Elena's uncle?" he said in surprise.

Damon raised a brow. "You know him?"

"I met him briefly when I was at Elena's earlier today after school," Stefan gave a little shudder as he remembered, Damon caught it but didn't comment.

"Yeah, well—Elena's uncle or not, he's a dick and gonna be a problem."

"Why?" Stefan furrowed his brows. "All the tomb vampires are ash, so is Anna, and the vampires she made to help her are dead, too. There's only two vampires in Mystic Falls—us—and seeing as you haven't killed anyone for a while, I don't see a problem."

"The problem, _little brother_ ," Damon informed him, "Is Uncle John looks more cleaver than he appears. He has happily informed the Council of a certain string of blood thefts that were reported from a hospital blood bank in the quaint neighbouring county of Amherst that happened a week ago. Ring any bells for you?"

"That huge freezer of Anna's that we found for the tomb vampires—and you commandeered." Stefan made the connection that his brother already had.

"Hey, I'm not going to let al that blood go to waste—and you should be happy, now I won't be off feeding on your precious town's folk and enjoying who I am." He said. "So yeah, it seems Little Orphan Annie was not as stealthy as a 400 year old 15 year old should be."

"So now the Council's back on vampire-alert, great." Stefan rubbed his forehead. "And Lexi isn't here for you to stake again and lay the blame on!" he added shortly with a glare at his brother.

"I went on the bag-diet for you, Stefan." Damon replied icily. He'd adopted Lexi's mainstream and under the radar method of feeding.

"Do you want a pat on the back for being an adult?" he said sarcastically. "It hasn't even been two weeks."

Damon sneered at him. "With the way you've been acting lately, someone has to."

Everyone seemed to discount that he had lived for a total of 162 years. That he'd been a vampire for 145 of them, that he had killed countless people, slaughtered an entire town that had dubbed him 'The Ripper of Monterey' in 1917, that he held diplomas from several collages and universities in dozens of subjects, or that he held dangerous and noble careers, a ambulance driver in WWII in '42—they didn't see the _man_ that he was. No, all they could see was that he was turned as a teenager. That he was 17, considered a kid in the 21st century when in the 19th he'd been a man, considered an adult.

Stefan glowered at him for a moment, before he sighed and let it go. So fine, he was going to act is 'age' and maybe everyone would stop with all the crap.

"You win, Damon." Damon blinked at him for a second in surprise before he narrowed his eyes at his brother in suspicion. "I will defer to you from now on," he spread his arms. "You're the big brother, you're in charge. We'll do whatever you think is best in this situation—with as less killing and bloodshed as possible if achievable, is all I ask, please." He climbed to his bare feet. "I'm going to take Salvatore to my room; I have to get up early to hunt in the morning before school."

"You're going back to school?" Damon asked in surprise.

"I came here to have a life, Damon. One as normal as possible, that means going to school—even if Elena is not talking to me at the moment, and I've--"

"Knocked boots with Teacher?" Damon supplied, much more nicely than he could have otherwise.

"Yeah, that." Stefan shot his brother an appreciative look. "I'll just drop History; it'll probably be easier for everyone that way."

"Still a martyr, huh?" Damon couldn't help but say, but at least he followed it awkwardly with: "History's like, your thing."

"We can't all have what we want." Stefan told him. "I've made my bed and now I'm going to lay in it. Both literally and figuratively." He flashed his brother a smile. He picked up the fish bowl, careful not to slosh the water.

Damon watched his brother as he passed, and that thing that he couldn't place, that worm eating a hole into his brain clicked into the upright position. He flitted to his brother in the door, grabbing his shoulder, so furious that hiss fangs were out. "Where is it?!" he shoved the brunette back against the doorpost. "Where's your ring!"

"Damon, stop!" Stefan cried out in fear, both his arms going around the fish bowl protectively against his chest as the water sloshed against his wifebeater.

"Where is it, Stefan!" Damon repeated, giving him another shove.

"It's here! I have it, it's right here!" Stefan shouted. "Just stop, you're gonna break the fishbowl."

"I don't care about the fish," Damon growled, but he backed off an inch. "Where!"

Stefan swallowed. "It-- it's with Salvatore." He looked down at the fishbowl in his arms, shifted his hold on it so his brother could see inside. The neat little set-up inside was tumbled; the pebbles at the bottom uneven, the little chest and astronaut toppled, Salvatore was darting around, freaked out by the 'earthquake' he just experienced. And right there, standing shiny amongst the dull pebbles was his lapis lazuli ring that Katherine had Emily make him, one of the few things of Katherine's that he kept with him. "It was shiny, he liked it."

With a snarl at his baby brother in anger and disgust, Damon reached for the bowl with clawed fingers.

"No!" Stefan managed to deflect his brother's intent hand with speed, afraid that he would hurt the fish. "I'll do it!" he shifted the fishbowl to his left arm and carefully reached into the water as Damon waited impatiently. Salvatore weaved through his fingers with deft flicks of his tail and Stefan couldn't help the small smile as the fish seemed to calm. Stefan picked up the ring, water dripped from his hand as he lifted it out.

Damon grabbed it from his hand with vampire speed, his other grabbed Stefan's wrist and he shoved the ring back onto his brother's finger where it sat precariously for the past 145 years. The fingers of his left hand, carded through his brother's right, their daylight rings slotting beside each other together as Damon gripped his hand with force enough for the bones of Stefan's hand to grind. His right hand gripped under his brother's chin tightly as he leaned in close, the fishbowl pressed between their chests.

"This ring is not a toy, Stefan." The blue-eyed vampire said lowly, his lip pulled back from his fangs. "I never want to see that ring off your finger, ever. Pull something like that again," Damon threatened, "And I will _eat him_ , do you understand me, brother?"

Stefan nodded as much as he could in his big brother's hold. "Yes," he whispered. Damon didn't immediately release him, instead he scrutinised, searching his wide green eyes for the rooted truth, his chest heaving. "I promise."

Damon's fangs sheathed back into his gums as he regained control of his raging emotions and finally released his brother, stepping back. Stefan exhaled and straightened, right hand going to Salvatore's bowl but didn't immediately move as he stared at his brother. "I'm sorry."

If he did have any lingering thoughts about it, spending the afternoon with Bonnie had washed them all back down to the bottom of his subconscious, no longer crowding the surface of his conscious. Having someone he could trust, who could take into account his feelings and motives, who knew what he was, had an idea of who he was, who generally cared for him, to talk to, unload on, had help significantly.

But he also realized compartmentalization was key. If he separated each event into their own little shadow box, connected together with nothing but a translucent string of web, he wouldn't be drowned in the coalesced weight of emotion and have the urge to flip the switch or just end it. That was always his problem, he overwhelmed himself with everything clumped together, driving himself mad with the guilt, shame, pain, lust, fear, and jealousy. But this way, with Alaric in one box, Elena in another, Damon, Katherine, Mystic Falls, even his Ripper persona—they were all still connected, the emotion was still, but it just didn't have that super intensity of something else piling on top of it.

"I wasn't--"

"You think I'm just going to take your word for it let you off the hook? I don't think so." Damon went to the sideboard and poured himself a tumbler of bourbon from the decanter. "It's time to get serious, baby brother."

His big brother was back and at full throttle. Stefan was both ecstatic and terrified. "Okay," he gave a small nod of acceptance to his brother's privilege. "Like I said, I'll defer to you, Damon."

Damon nodded and drank. "Go to bed, Stefan. I _will_ see you in the morning."

After on last look at the vampire, Stefan finally headed upstairs; he was going to need to top Salvatore's bowl with water before he went to bed. He was going to take his brother's change in attitude with a grain of salt and pray that it wasn't just some 146 year itch—and he was going to make sure to enjoy every last moment of it in case that was the situation.

...

Stefan was ready for school the next morning. He'd fed Salvatore, smiling as he watched the comet goldfish. He dumped the contents from his broken satchel to the new one he'd bought and hung it on the hook by the door so he could grab it after his hunt and head out straight after. His brother had slightly other intentions for his day.

"I called the school." Damon stated, leaning against the banister at the bottom of the stairs in dark jeans and a grey v-neck.

Stefan stared at him blankly. "You what?"

"You're not going to school today, as far as they know you've got a 24 hour bug and will be out two days."

Stefan's brain finally kicked in. "What are you talking about? I'm going to school,"

"We talked about this last night," Damon reminded him calmly as Stefan's mind raced. "I'm in charge," the brunette rolled his eyes and the blue narrowed as he straightened, steeping forward, "You've been in a downward spiral the last two days, you were hurt and didn't tell me, you took your ring off. You're pushing yourself to mend other's hurt feelings," he put a hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezed, "And I am telling you no."

Stefan stared at his brother, incredulous. The vampire was serious. He did give Damon permission to take complete control, he just never thought his brother would take it to mean this. It had been such a long time since Damon had cared this much about him, anyone, really. He took a deep breath and exhaled—then nodded in acceptance. "Okay, if that's what you think is best."

Surprise flashed through his blue eyes quickly, followed by pleasure before the were schooled over with authority. "You have an hour to hunt."

"Two," Stefan countered and quickly followed it with: "If I'm not going to school then I don't want to rush," before Damon could get angry.

"Two," Damon nodded once in acceptance. "Be back by then because you do not want me to come out there after you, Stefan." He turned and walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

Stefan gapped at his brother's retreating back. It was the Twilight Zone, or his brother was some pod person. He felt like a _kid_! He couldn't stop the smile as he flitted out the front and across the lot into the woods.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Damon had thought it was appropriate that Stefan make his return to civilization during the Founder's Day Kick-Off Party three days later on Friday. They had spent the last two days consecutively together at the Boarding House—just the two of them (or three if Salvatore was counted; If Stefan wasn't in his room then he brought the comet goldfish downstairs to the parlor or library. It was more or less the same—Damon was still sarcastic and a jerk, but there was no _malice_ or impromptu games if Operation. Stefan wanted to live in a future, not the in the past so it was a typically mute subject between the brothers.

It had been such a weight off his shoulders to have someone else be the 'adult', to shift problems to the backburner, hide in the bubble with his big brother.

But it was back to a reality that he didn't want to face. He was bound to run into either Elena or Alaric; the former who he hadn't seen or talked to since she kicked him out, hoping to give her space and time and hope they could talk again and mend their friendship; and the latter of whom it was already nerve-wracking just to think about an encounter. He would just stick with his brother and hope for the best.

Unsurprisingly or not, it was Damon who uttered: "God, kill me now," as they came up the walk of the Lockwood property with the other guests.

"If you ask me more nicely," Stefan offered as they paused at the entrance, "Then we'd both have a reason to get out of here."

"Not gonna happen, Stef." Damon denied him, on a mission tonight. "I want to get the dish on Uncle Douchebag, and you're on a short leash. You're not going anywhere." He patted his brother on the chest and proceeded into the stuffy party. "Now come on, put your party-face on."

"This whole... concerned brother act is starting to get annoying." Stefan remarked as he followed. "Now I know why you ripped my liver out." But his green eyes shone with happiness. He grabbed a Champaign flute from a server as he _just_ passed before immediately trading it off for a full glass when they passed another server as they found themselves an innocuous spot with a view of the main hall.

 _It's not an act._ "This is what you've reduced me— _me_ — to with all your teenage vampire angst," Damon flicked a hand at his brother's face before he snatched the flute and drained the weak alcohol. "This is what happens when you threaten to commit suicide and it's not just you being dramatic and wanting attention."

"I'm not going to commit suicide," Stefan told him, and he wasn't—not now, at least. He'd spiralled low, he'd admit, it was scary how close he had teetered off the edge; to either suicide or the humanity switch. So he could say nothing further, that didn't stop Damon, though:

"You used your daylight ring as fishbowl decoration," Damon pointed out. "Remember the last time you took off your ring? Ring any bells, hm?"

Stefan's lips tightened and he glance away in shame. 1922 had been a gruesome episode as the Ripper in Chicago, he knew because he couldn't remember. He only had spotty moments of clarity of some of that time, the rest was in blood fugue blackout; and his journals provided no insight to the years. He didn't tend to journal when he was like that, but when he switched his humanity back on; there wasn't enough pages and ink in the world. Somehow, Lexi had got him to turn the switch back on and got him off human blood; it took 13 years. It was 10 more years before he gained complete control (or as much control as he ever had), enough to be trusted alone and with humans, to be around human blood and not go instant Ripper. There had been so many times in those 23 years that the ring had come off with intention, only for Lexi and even Damon to reel him back from the edge.

Damon's eye finally caught sight of his quarry; leaving the security of the pack no less. A dangerous smile graced his lips. He clapped his brooding brother on the shoulder, pulling him from the past.

"I've found my prey, brother. Don't move," Damon warned him, walking away and going through the open terrace doors after John Gilbert.

"Yes, mother." Stefan rolled his eyes.

"I heard that," Damon's voice drifted back with his vampire hearing and Stefan didn't bother to stifle the amused smile. He blinked at a flash and looked over to see Bonnie slipping her cell phone into her purse.

She smirked unapologetically at his raised brow. "Had to capture the moment. So, should I wonder what put it there?"

"Just Damon."

It was Bonnie's turn to raise her eyebrows. "That's an ominous sentence if I ever heard one."

Stefan gave a light chuckle. He may not have seen anyone other than Damon the past two days, but he and the witch had exchanged a text or two, her concern still standing. She was dubious of Damon's declaration of being a caring big brother again as she was about anything that included his fluid brother. "He's being very responsible about it."

Bonnie decided not to dig into it as long as the raven-haired vampire didn't cause trouble. "Great, that gives you just enough time to have a dance with me."

Stefan had never been more happy to respond with: "Sorry, Damon ordered me to stay here, I think I'm going to listen to him for once."

"Yeah. Uh-huh," she nodded agreeably as she took his wrist anyway and pulled him along to the hall where the band was playing some tasteless classic jazz remix. There were only three older couples that appeared to be swaying.

"This music is terrible," Stefan needlessly pointed out as the witch put them in the center of the crowd.

"Buck up, Salvatore." And she started to lead him when he refused to move, he sighed and let her, his gaze shooting around the hall, searching for a certain straight-haired brunette. Bonnie looked up into his face knowingly. "She's working it out."

The vampire's green eyes darted to focus on her open heart-shaped face. "I wasn't--" he started, then sighed and admitted, "I was. How is she?" the terrible music faded as he focused on his friend.

"She's fine. She has me, Caroline, Matt, Jenna, Jeremy. We're all ripe with advice and are ready soundboards. It's only been five days. You're 162 years old, you can handle this teenage drama."

A smile flickered across his lips, giving her a hand a light squeeze. "And I have you, Damon and Salvatore."

"How's that going?" she asked him, putting the vampire into a twirl that had the both chuckling and grinning. "Is it still alive?"

"Of course! I feed him every day," Stefan told her. "I'm happy you had that brilliant idea, Bonnie Bennett," he was earnest as he took her arm from around his waist and pulled it up to his shoulder, his own going around her slim waist and to the small of her back as he started to lead her. "I never had a pet before, I was always too afraid I would get myself into a situation where I would have to feed off it. But it's not the same with a fish as it is with a cat or dog. So, thank you." He spun them, and dipped her deep.

"Oh!" she made a sound of surprise and looked up at him with bright brown eyes. He pulled her back up, holding her fingers delicately in his hand as he bowed to her. "Well, your welcome." He straightened, pulled the arm holding her hand back and kissed her softly on the cheek before he twirled her, releasing so she landed into a surprised arms of Jeremy.

He chuckled as he weaved back through the crowd, snagging a glass of the hard stuff from a server, drained it and stowed the empty cup in a planter as he made it back to the spot Damon had ordered him to not move from. And it was a minute later that this happened:

"Just a head's up," Damon appeared next to him. "I killed Uncle John."

"We've been here **30** minutes!" Stefan groaned in frustration.

"Exactly. And that's how annoying he was. Let's face it, Stefan—he needed to die." His voice was dangerous.

"You can't just kill people at the Mayor's house," Stefan hissed. "Least of all Elena's uncle!" Damon just gave him a face. The brunette sighed, already thinking about the clean up he was going to have to do on this: did anyone see Damon follow John out to the terrace? "What did he say?" Stefan raised an eyebrow, curious. It could have been any number of things with the tetchy mood Damon was in. "Damon?"

Damon rounded on him close. "He made me aware that he was aware that we were vampires—but even more than that... of a little accident of yours." Stefan looked at him in surprise at the first part then mild confusion for a moment before his eyes flickered briefly in recognition—the hit and run four days ago. "Want to share with the class?"

"Not really," the teen admitted and then continued at his brother's deathly glare, "I got hit by a car on Tuesday. I woke up, fed—it was fine. I continued on my way, no one was hurt."

" ** _You_** were hurt," Damon corrected with gritted teeth.

"This isn't helping, Damon." Stefan sighed, though he couldn't help but be silently happy that his brother was angry on his behalf and responded—even if it was in killing Elena's creepy Uncle John who just put him on edge—which would do nothing to repair the relationship with the girl. It was so weird to have his 'big brother' back, the version he remembered from when they were human. He was almost afraid that any moment now that Damon would just look at him and start laughing in hysterics because he was gullible enough to fall for it.

"That bastard's lucky I already killed him before I knew, otherwise I wouldn't have been so merciful and quick about it." He retorted. Stefan's eyes widened briefly as he spotted a blond enter behind his brother's shoulder that shouldn't be. "What?" Damon questioned with a raised brow. "Spot an ex? Never thought I would ever say that to you,"

He went to turn but Stefan grabbed both his shoulders and held him in place. The teen swallowed and licked his lips, gaze constantly flickering over his brother's shoulders as he tracked the man. Was he undead? Did an unknown vampire give him blood like Anna had Logan Fell?

"Don't do something reckless, Damon." Stefan warned.

"When have I ever done that?" Damon shrugged his hands off and turned. His sharp gaze scanned the crowd in the room, flitting over face after face until it lit upon the one that did not belong. _What was it with people not dying anymore? It shouldn't be this hard to kill people!_ Damon growled. John spotted the vampire brothers and gave them a huge smile full of teeth as he waved mockingly. "Looks like I'm going to get a chance at the slower kill after all," he was already taking a step forward when Stefan grasped his bicep in a crushing grip as John disappeared into the crowd. "Let go, Stefan." He glared, but Stefan wasn't looking at him.

There was a terrified expression on his face. "He has a ring!"

It was Damon's turn to get a grip on his brother as he made the connection, but Stefan managed to twist himself free. But his older brother needn't have worried, it was someone else's location that consumed him.

He searched the party frantically for Alaric, dread filling his belly every passing second that the history teacher wasn't in his sight. And then he caught sight of the dirty-blond, chatting and laughing with Jenna. Stefan felt jealousy twist in his chest briefly but he knew that the woman was better for the teacher than he was—being human was a large mark in her favour.

Alaric's right side was facing away from him, he couldn't see the ring. He knew Ric was alive and seemingly well, not like he'd just had the ring stolen, but Stefan needed to _see_ himself. Stefan said nothing as he approached, just grabbed Alaric's wrist, pulling a surprised Alaric from a confused Jenna.

"Stefan!" Alaric protested in a hiss as the vampire left him no other choice but to stumble after him through the crowd. "What are you doing?" Stefan said nothing, just found the closest empty room, which happened to be the bathroom. He locked the door behind them. "Stef--" the vampire spun the teacher, exchanging his left wrist for the right hand, holding it tightly as he rose it to see the ring on his ring finger right where it belonged, exhaling in relief. Alaric squeezed his fingers back; something obviously had the teenager spooked. "What's going on?"

"Damon killed Elena's uncle." Stefan said, not ready to let go, his thumb brushing over the signet.

"He what?" Alaric exclaimed.

"He came back, just like you did. And he has a ring just like yours." He looked up at the man. "I thought--" Stefan cut himself off with a shake of his head. "Anyway, just be wary of John Gilbert, he's dangerous. He knows Damon and I are vampires but hasn't told the Council; he wants something. He's already provoked Damon—who's already ready to kill him again."

"Do I wanna know?" he joked.

"Just a hit and run," he finally, reluctantly released the teacher's warm hand.

"He ran Damon over and he's still breathing?"

"Not Damon," Stefan corrected, turning for the door.

"You?" Alaric grabbed his arm, eyes wide in worry. "Are you okay?"

Stefan gave a light chuckle. "Don't worry, it was days ago. I'm fine. I drained a dog," he didn't know why he added that last part or maybe he did as Alaric reacted.

Ric's brows just flickered before they furrowed again in concern. "But you're okay?"

Emotion suddenly swelled in the vampire's chest and he couldn't talk around the lump in his throat. There was no accusation or disgusted expressed in the man's blue eyes, not like there had been in Elena's when he'd told her the same thing even if he'd done it more crudely to her. The ache in his chest started to bloom up again so he just nodded, but that did not ease the man's worry, just seemed to alarm him more.

"Stefan?" Alaric cupped his cheek, peering at him closely.

Stefan could hardly take seeing the man so close, not able to respond how he wished, reassure like he wanted—so he closed his eyes. Every muscle in his body was taut with restraint. He could feel the warmth of Alaric palm slowly spread throw his skin like a pulse as he felt the blood beneath his skin flow, the curl of the man's soft breaths against his lips and chin. The vampire felt the skin around his eyes tingle with such desire, a hunger for the teacher that was not eclipsed by blood. "You're killing me," he whispered despairingly.

He felt a huff of breath that was scant millimetres from his mouth and his eyes snapped open, briefly seeing Alaric so close to of had no other intention than to kiss him, before the man jerked away, his cheeks flushed.

"I'm sorry." Alaric uttered. "I shouldn't have done that."

"You--" Stefan swallowed, looking across at the frustrated man as his shadow box pulsed, a tight contraction then release in the depths of the vampire's mind. He sighed and shook his head and slumped back against the door.

"I don't know how this is supposed to work, Stefan." Alaric confessed and started to pace in the small confines of the half-bath. "My mind keeps going in circles," he twirled his hand, "Because I keep treating this like it's a normal situation when it's not. You're a vampire, you're frozen in time... but that's the thing, you're not just 17 years old, you're much more than that. You've lived through two life times, you've been through things that half the world's population cannot even comprehend—that I can't even begin to." He stopped and faced the vampire. "I know what I _should_ do, what’s probably better for us, everyone, in the long run, but…"

Stefan straightened and stared. "What are you saying, exactly?" Ric's shadow box expanded further with every pulse, straining at the seams, struggling to stay contained as the teen listened to the teacher's words, his hope clawing up from the dark depths of his psyche.

"I don't know how this is going to work, if it is—you and me." Alaric was honest. "You're a vampire, I'm not. I'm gonna keep getting older and I don't want to broach the subject of turning. I am nowhere near that ready, nor do I think I ever could. So if that's a pro--"

Stefan grabbed the lapels of his jacket and jerked the taller man against him in a passionate kiss. Alaric's surprise only stilled him for a brief instant before he kissed back, hands cupping the vampire's head. _I love you_ , Stefan wanted to breathe into the man's mouth with a shock of realization. Could he? He lusted for the man, cared about his safety and wellbeing, enjoyed his presences, voice, and mind. He knew whatever he felt was heightened by his vampirism, so what might be a simple crush could be mistaken for love. But he didn't say it because he knew it was too early, neither one of them was ready for that.

The bathroom lock popped and Stefan was instantly on alert, pulling away from Alaric, getting on the defensive, fangs ready to come down and sink into the threat's throat—it was just Damon smirking at in the doorway, arm braced up on the doorframe as the door slowly swung to rest against the wall.

"Well, well," Damon smirked as his gaze flickered between the two. "Looks like I interrupted just in time—a minute later and clothes would be on the floor."

"What do you want, Damon?" Stefan growled in annoyance.

"Just saving my baby brother some embarrassment--"

"Just stop it, already." Stefan muttered. "You're the embarrassing one!"

Damon grinned. "Just doing my brotherly duty." His smirk fell as he stared behind his brother at the dirty-blond. "Looks like you've made your decision."

"Got a problem with that?" Alaric returned evenly, holding his stare. Stefan looked back and forth between the human and vampire uneasily; they'd talked, together, about him, behind his back, some point in the last three days. Green eyes narrowed in suspicion. Only time would tell if he was going to thank his big brother for the interference or punch him.

"Only time will tell, Teacher." They continued to glare at each other.

"Enough," Stefan said firmly, stuck between them as he straightened his jacket. "Did you just interrupt to posture or was there something else?"

"Fair enough," Damon turned his attention back to his brother, "Nobody's favourite uncle is about to take off, come on, we're going to have a little chat. You can even tag along, Teacher, I sense it's going to get very educational." he pushed off from the doorframe and left, leaving the other two to follow at their will.

Stefan quickly looked back at Alaric as they left the bathroom and followed his brother through the thinned crowd of guests at the Lockwood Mansion, who just raised his brows in response.

"Leaving so soon?" Damon caught up with the man on the walk from the mansion. "Was it something I said?" he put his hand mockingly to his chest as John stopped and turned to face the vampire and teacher.

Somehow, Stefan ended up at the back of the pack. Maybe it was subconscious on his part, John Gilbert made him uneasy on a predatory level which had never happened with a human the he could recall.

"I'm sure that it's a very common occurrence for you," he replied. "So, are you going to kill me again, or," he blue gaze slid right over Stefan behind the pair, to Alaric, "Are you going to get Mr Saltzman to do your dirty work?"

"Now why would I let him have all the fun?"

"Okay, so you obviously know who I am." Alaric crossed his arms. "Funny thing, I never heard of you until ten minutes ago."

"Ooh," John sucked in a mocking gasp through his teeth. "Cheap shot, Alaric Saltzman, the high school history teacher with a secret." Alaric tensed and Stefan stiffened involuntarily behind.

"You sure know a lot for someone who just rolled into town," Damon drawled.

"More than you can imagine, Damon. My knowledge of this town goes beyond what you... or the Council knows. So, if you were planning on some high-speed-snatch-ring-vamp move... know that if I die everything I know goes to the Council—and won't that be so very fun for you?" Damon sneered at him as John smiled.

Alaric asked the pressing question: "How'd you get that ring?"

"I inherited one. My brother Gray, the other. _This,_ " John held up his right hand, "Was his." He stared at Alaric, "And I wouldn't have given Isobel mine if I had known she'd hand it over to another guy!"

"You knew Isobel?" Alaric demanded, taking a step forward. "How?"

"Who do you think sent her his way?" John nodded at Damon.

Alaric flashed an angry look at Damon before he grabbed fistfuls of John's jacket. "You sent _my_ wife to get killed?"

"Hey! Easy!" John shoved him off and fixed his jacket. "Not to die! He was suppose to turn her!" he spat at Damon.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Damon pouted sarcastically. "Did that mess with your master plan? For someone who claims to know me so much, you sure screwed the pooch on that one, Waldo."

"An oversight on my part, I admit," John said through gritted teeth. "I thought you would have jump through a few of your own hoops and come to the conclusion that she was connected with Katherine Pierce."

It was Damon's turn to tense. "How do you know about Katherine?"

"How do I know anything, Damon?" he offered glibly, arms open.

"What do you want?" the vampire growled.

"So many questions," he mused. "What about you?" John’s blue gaze finally zeroed in on the teen vampire, "You're being super quiet back there, Stefan. Don't tell me you're shy—that's adorable."

Stefan inhaled deeply. "I'm far more subtle than my brother, you'll find, I'm sure." He flitted between his brother and lover and in front of the man, causing him to hum in amusement at the teen. "I should thank you, really, John."

"Oh?" John raised a brow, forcing his breath even as Stefan placed both hands onto his shoulders.

" _You_ did hit me with your car early morning Tuesday, didn't you?" Stefan questioned. "I mean, you implied that earlier to Damon," he glanced back at his brother, "That's why he killed you."

"Well?" Damon whispered up beside his brother, giving the blond an evil eye.

"Take it as a warning," John said. "Stay away from my niece."

Stefan's lips tightened, but he said nothing. Damon narrowed his eyes and did for him, "My brother can be friends with whoever he wants." He gave the blond a little chest push in his own warning.

"Damon--" Stefan warned.

Damon ignored him. "You have no idea who you're messing with, do you?"

"On the contrary—I know exactly who I'm 'messing with'. I know everything there is to know about you—the original Salvatore brothers." Uncle John turned his attention back onto Stefan, "The interesting question here, I find, is: why would you thank me?"

"A stranger viciously hurting you like that—leaving you in a ditch like you're a piece of trash, broken and bloody..." Stefan whispered intensely, "It puts things into perspective, John. I just thought you should know that."

John stared at him for a long, tense moment. "Look, Stefan. I'm sure you were once a nice, descent kid, _once_ —when you were human and alive... but now you're just a blood-sucking monster. You can only ever hurt her now."

"Leave," Damon warned, "While you still have the chance!" the man was smart enough to listen to the dangerous vampire, retreating down the walk.

Stefan closed his green eyes against the retreating figure and pulsing in his head; as each of the shadow boxes tried to ventilate. John knew Isobel, who was Alaric's wife, who Damon killed, that was a descendent of Katherine's bloodline, who Elena was a doppelganger of, of whom Stefan had been warned away from.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to mentally cut off the oxygen through the connecting strands of web connecting them all before each shadow box could explode and all the combined emotions overload him into flipping the switch.

"Stefan." Damon grasped his shoulder and gave him a shake.

Stefan dropped his hand and looked up at both Damon and Ric. "I'm fine." He crossed his arms loosely over his chest. "You were right," he nodded at his brother, "This was very educational— _and_ a problem."

"We just need to find out what Uncle Know-it-all has on us, _then_ kill him." Damon said in agreement and solution.

"Really?" Alaric said.

Damon shot him a look of confusion. "This is the guy who sent your wife to me. You telling me you don't want him dead?"

Alaric's fists clenched and he glared at the vampire. " _You're_ the one that drained and killed her."

"You obviously weren't enough for her if she wanted to become a vampire, that's not something that screams I'm-happy-in-my-marriage!"

"You don't know anything about our marriage!" Alaric snapped, fisting his jacket angrily; the vampire was unaffected otherwise.

"If I didn't kill her and she did come back to you a vampire, you telling me you'd be chill?" Damon questioned him condescendingly. "Stefan, any comments?" he looked over at his silent brother.

"Yeah, stop being such a dick," Stefan told him. "Ric," he put a hand on the man's chest and gently but firmly pulled him away from his brother. "Don't pay attention to him, he's just acting out because he hasn't killed anyone properly for a while."

"I heard that," Damon muttered sourly.

Stefan's lip twitched but he ignored his brother otherwise. "Are you okay? I don't think that was something any of us was prepared for."

"Yeah. Yeah. Knowing that she was killed, I guess there will always be some residual feeling about that. But to know that she _sought_ it out…" he shook his head.

"I’m sorry." _She obviously didn’t know how lucky she was._ Stefan could only think that the woman was stupid. She loved Ric enough to give him the ring, but didn’t love him enough to stay and instead sought out to become undead? If she did manage to get turned into a vampire, Stefan didn’t think she would have returned either, like Damon had suggested. Alaric squeezed his hand in the shadows between them.

" _Awkward_ ," Damon sang. When they glared at him the raven-haired brother gave them innocent blue eyes as he held up his palm and pointed through it.

They followed it to see Elena standing on the steps outside the entryway. Somehow Stefan hadn't run into or seen her inside, even if he had Jenna, Jeremy, and John, and couldn't help but think how beautiful she looked with her hair pinned up and wearing the black, strapless dress, the vervain locket always present around her neck even after the fight.

Elena took a deep breath, rose her chin and approached. "Damon. Mr Saltzman," she gave the man a stiff smile. Her gaze turned to her ex, "Stefan, could I speak to you for a minute, please?"

"Uh," Stefan shot a glance at Alaric. "Yeah. Of course." He followed the teen girl a short distance off the walk away from Damon and Alaric onto the grass; it gave them privacy from the teacher but Damon could still listen in if he wanted. "You look beautiful," he told her.

Her cheeks went warm and she gave him a small, nervous smile. "Thanks. I'm sorry, Stefan," she blurted.

He shook his head. "You don't--"

"I do." She interrupted. "I was angry, hurt, and jealous. It just came out of left field and I wasn't ready for it. I thought that there was still a small chance that we might get back together now that all the... excitement had died down, but I know I was wrong. It was unacceptable for me to pile all those expectations on you and not take how you felt into consideration. I hope we can still be friends, Stefan."

"Elena," not knowing how to say how glad and relieved he was feeling, Stefan stepped forward and wrapped the girl in a hug. "I missed you." He laid his cheek against her done-up hair, feeling the warmth of her body as she squeezed him back, her heart against his lower chest. "I'm sorry you had to find out about Ric the way you did."

Elena gave her head a little shake as they separated. "It'll get some getting used to," she admitted, "But I'm happy for you, Stefan. Please tell me you're coming back to school on Monday? We're building the floats for the Founder's Day Parade and Caroline is being a float Nazi."

"I am." He assured.

"Bonnie said something about Damon," she said. "How's that?" Stefan turned his face away so that his brother couldn't see and gave a huge smile, she could see his green eyes brighten and knew that he was happy. She chuckled and smiled back. "I see."

"Should I be insulted or complimented?" Damon called playfully to them.

Both teens looked over at him and said in stereo: "You shouldn't eavesdrop!"

Alaric chuckled at Damon's indignant expression.

"It's not eavesdropping if you're talking about me." He denied.

"But there's something you should know..." Stefan turned back to her sombrely.

"What?"

"You're uncle on the Founder's Council, Elena. He knows about vampires—he knows about _us_ ," he nodded across at Damon. "He was the one that directed Isobel to Damon with the intention for him to turn her. He even knew about Katherine." Her eyes couldn't possible get wider. "And he has a ring just like Alaric's."

Her eyes slowly narrowed and she turned to give Damon a glare. "And how would you have found that out?" she said lowly, knowing he could still hear her.

Damon flitted over to the pair, making her jump a little as he appeared next to Stefan. "I have no regrets," he informed her steely, "Your creepy uncle is the one that hit Stefan with his car."

Elena gasped. "He did?" she looked to the brunette who nodded.

"I'm sorry, Elena." He whispered.

"Why are you apologizing, Stefan? _He_ should apologize."

Damon snorted and crossed his arms. "I don't remember an apology, just a warning to stay away from you."

"He can't do that!" she scoffed in disgust. "He has no bearing in my life, vampires or not." Damon smirked; it was always fun to watch her get riled up—Katherine only ever got vindictive. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

"While you're telling him off, maybe you can find out what he has on us?" Damon suggested.

Elena gave a determined nod and left the brother's passed Alaric towards her car down the walk. "I'll call!"

"Damon!" Stefan cursed his brother. "Why did you do that, it's too dangerous."

Damon rolled his eyes. "He's not going to hurt her—I'm pretty sure." Stefan growled. "Besides, if anything, he'll try and turn her against us." His brother still didn't look happy. "You said you would defer."

Stefan harrumphed. "If anything happens to her..."

"It won't," Damon promised, clapping him on the shoulder. "It's the weekend, so I'll give you free reign." He left his brother. "Don't screw up, Teacher." He warned Alaric as he passed.

"Your brother just gave me a warning," he said as Stefan approached.

"Yeah, he doesn't know what boundaries are."

"Everything okay with you and Elena?"

Stefan nodded and looked around as more people started to leave the party. "We should get out of here."

Alaric nodded his agreement and walked next to the vampire down the walk towards the drive where the valet was. "Where to?"

Stefan gave his a sidelong smile, feeling light-hearted and a bit playful; he had Alaric, Damon _and_ Elena back—the shadow boxes were quiet and comforted. "Depends,"

"Oh?" he raised a curious brow.

"Do you want to finish what we started in the bathroom?"

" _Oh_ ," this one had a different tone all together.

_tbc..._

**_~ The Vampire Diaries ~_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Heard Stefan had a little accident not too long ago." John twittered conversationally as he approached Damon alone with smarmy confidence._   
>  _Damon was confused by the taunt but didn't let it show. What accident? Why hadn't Stefan said something? "Yeah?" he took a step closer, his voice a low growl. "You saying you know something about that?"_   
>  _John gave him an innocent headshake. "Just that I was surprise to see him soon after,"_   
>  _Damon snapped his neck and quickly pushed the dead man over the railing._


	6. CHAPTER 5

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

"You sure you don't mind?" Alaric questioned as his fingers brushed delicately over the worn and cracked spines of the leather journals that were crammed on the shelf, feeling both excitement and trepidation.

"Yes, Ric." Stefan replied with an even voice despite the nervous lick in his belly. "You're an historian and a hunter, I know you can read with objectively—besides, I saw the look in your eyes the first time you saw them." He smirked, "Like a kid in a candy store."

Alaric straightened and turned to the vampire seated behind the computer desk playing homework catch-up. "It's not every day you get an opportunity like this,"

"I don't think there's anything historically accurate," Stefan admitted, "I mean I lived through those times, but their mostly accounts of my infrequent encounters of Damon, when I lost myself to the call of human blood, and Lexi putting me through years of detox back onto animal blood."

"Don't sell yourself short. Jonathan Gilbert's Journal was very educational."

The vampire gave a soft snort. "Everyone just thought he was a madman."

"Not if you know how to read between the lines. Now come on, any suggestions?" Alaric wondered.

Stefan flitted over to him, leaving his wheelie chair spinning. "The '63 journal is the only one that has entries pre-Katherine, from when I was still human. I managed to save it." He easily pointed to the spine. "Want to read about how I lost my virginity?" he joked.

"I thought you lost your... virginity to Katherine." Alaric said.

"Damon did." Stefan shook his head, "Thankfully I did not. I was still 16, soon to be 17." He recounted, "Damon had just gone off fighting in the confederate war. It was at the night of the County Fair in Mystic Falls. She was just passing through and we spent the day together—and then briefly the night, in a wagon filled with hay." He gave the dirty blond a subdued smile, "We were going to run away together, she wrote me to meet but never showed. A week after my birthday, Katherine came to stay with us."

"It was senior prom," Alaric confessed his own, "Graduation. I was 18, before I left home to attend college. It was in the back of a Station Wagon," he chuckled, "In the school parking lot. Nothing like your hot tryst in a hay wagon."

"'64," Stefan pointed, "Katherine. '64," he pointed to another, "I was a... bampi, Katherine was dead, Damon had left—and I loved human blood. I was a vampire for a couple of months before I met Lexi and she took me under her wing. She was the one that told me I was a Ripper, got me to turn my switch back on, and put me on the vegetarian diet." He paused as Damon's shadow box gave a rattle, and ignored it. "I was on it 48 years before I fell off it," he pointed to the 1912 journal, "Hard. I was a Ripper again, but it was nothing like it was in 1864 when I'd just turned. I'd been denying myself my hunger, my craving, for nearly 5 decades. I couldn't stop myself, the bloodlust eclipsed me, turned my humanity switch off because I couldn't face myself, what I did to my victims because I couldn't control my hunger, because I could never sate it so I just kept feeding, and tearing, and killing." Stefan swallowed as he felt the hunger burn in the back of his throat, the craving yawning as he just simply recounted those times in the barest of terms, feeling disgusted with himself for feeling this way.

"Hey," Alaric whispered, a gentle hand on his cheek, trying to draw him back.

Stefan's eyes snapped open and his fangs snapped down, able to sense the flow of blood under the thin layer of skin at Alaric's wrist so close to his mouth and nose. Alaric stilled but didn't pull away and Stefan quickly pursed his lips and turned his head away. "Sorry," he managed to fight his fangs back into his gums.

"Stefan, I know you're a vampire. I know you've killed when you didn't have to. You don't have to keep turning away from me,"

"Knowing and seeing are two completely different things, Ric." Stefan denied. "Hearing about it is different than _listening_ to it in person. I haven't drunk human blood in 74 years and I plan on staying on animal blood as long as I am undead. I've thought I had control over the bloodlust before, but it's just like saying 'I'll just have one drink,' that's not how it works in real life. I'm not going to make the same mistake again, I've made that mistake too many times."

"You're right," Alaric turned the stoic vampire's face back towards him, locking blue with green. "I've never seen you be a _vampire_ before—I've seen the speed, the strength, the intelligence, even the fangs a little," he glanced at the teen's mouth, "—I've never seen you _vamp-out,_ or feed, or kill, but if I didn't think I could handle those things if they ever came... I would have let things stand how I had in the classroom."

"Ahem, love to interrupt this touching moment," Damon suddenly appeared in Stefan's doorway, much to the pair’s chagrin, wagging a cell phone, "But Elena finally called, she's on her way. Just wanted to make sure you two were decent."

Stefan narrowed his eyes as he faced his brother. "That's my cell phone," he accused, and flitted to his brother to snatch it out of his fingers. "Why do you have it?"

"You left it downstairs, was I just supposed to let it ring?" he challenged indignantly. "That would have just been rude, Elena might think you were screening her calls."

Stefan gave his brother a little playful shove. "Next time I'll be just as curious with your phone," he warned.

Damon chuckled. "I'm not that careless, brother."

Stefan shook his head and slipped his cell into his pocket. "What did she say, did she find something?"

"I don't know, Stefan." He said patiently. "That's why she's coming over. To tell us."

"I never would have guessed you two were brothers," Alaric deadpanned as Stefan glared at his brother and Damon smirked in return.

Suddenly, Stefan flashed a grin. "I can show you pictures."

"Excuse me?" Damon sputtered. "What pictures? Where?"

"I got them when I went back for my journal before I left Mystic Falls." Stefan crossed his arms, "And if I tell you, you'll steal them... so I'll keep that to myself when I'm showing all our friends baby-Damon."

Alaric chuckled and Damon swivelled his glare the teacher's way. "I was just picturing that look on a cuter, chubbier face. Adorable."

"Don't _you_ start," Damon warned the human before he flitted from the room. "I will find them even if I have to tear your room apart."

Stefan smiled at Ric and stage whispered to his lover's amusement: "He won't find them." He went over to the open-faced cabinet by his balcony doors and carefully picked up Salvatore's fishbowl to take down to the parlor with them. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last; he just didn't want the comet goldfish to become lonely, sitting in his room all day while he was at school or out hunting, so he'd take him to the parlor, or the library.

Damon rolled his eyes as he watched his brother put the fishbowl on a pre-cleared spot on the end table under the lamp beside the sofa. "You take that thing everywhere you go. Why don't you save yourself the trouble and just get a dog already?"

"You know why," Stefan said. He sped to the kitchen, leaving Damon and Alaric alone, to put the coffee pot on. Alaric had stayed the weekend so he'd stocked the fridge and cupboards; being a vampire meant that he didn't _need_ to eat food to survive, but that didn't mean he couldn't eat.

He found a package of Oreos in the cupboard as the coffee brewed, and dumped them on a plate, before grabbing four mugs. He filled them each with a different order and put everything on a serving tray.

Stefan walked back to the parlor at human speed, to find Damon with a tumbler of bourbon and Alaric setting down an empty glass.

"I don't want coffee," Damon informed his brother as he eyed the tray.

"That's fine," he set the tray on the coffee table, "It's not for you."

"That's just makes me want it," Damon pouted, he reached forward with a flash of speed, but it was only to grab some Oreos. He sat back in the chair, ankle crossed on his knee as he twisted to cookies apart and licked out the icing. Alaric quirked his brow in amusement across in the opposing chair as the vampire lined the empty cookies along his leg, then dunked the halves in his bourbon like it was a glass of milk before he ate them.

"The red mug's yours, Ric." Stefan said before he left the parlor for the door as he heard Bonnie's Prius pull up the drive. He had the door open even before the two teenagers made it to the front porch.

"Hey, Stefan." Elena said. "I brought Bonnie."

"And I brought some magical reading," Bonnie patted her book bag as they came in.

Stefan smiled at them. "And I have coffee and Oreos. We're just in the parlor," he proceeded them down the hallway.

"You win," Elena declared and they chuckled.

The vampire, witch, and doppelganger filled the couch; Stefan sitting closest to Alaric, Elena to Damon, and Bonnie in the middle. Stefan handed out the coffee, taking his own and leaned against the arm; the Oreo plate dwindled.

"Now that refreshments are out of the way," Damon said. He looked to Elena, "Talk—starting with why you dragged Ms Judy-pants along." Everyone rolled their eyes.

"Because I'm more useful than you," Bonnie answered him promptly; they exchanged glowers.

"Elena," Stefan interceded. "You said you found something when you called?"

"Yeah." Elena nodded. "Uncle John was waiting at the house and I was totally ready to tear into him about hitting you with his car, but he beat me to it. He was like 'let's stop lying to each other, Elena. We both know what the Salvatore brother are,' and then he tried to tell me what monsters you were and that you were just going to get me killed." Stefan grimaced because he knew it was true. "I realized that he thought Stefan and I were still on the outs from Tuesday so I used that to my advantage, and to try and convince me further to stay away he gave me some more Gilbert Journals."

"Jonathan Gilbert?" Alaric questioned, sitting forward. "The same who wrote that first journal?" Elena nodded.

"That's not possible," Stefan said quietly, and everyone looked to him.

"What do you mean?" Elena asked.

"I killed Jonathan Gilbert in 1864," Stefan confessed, "After I was turned."

"He must of had a ring," Bonnie realized. "Uncle John said there were two, passed down through the Gilbert family to members of the Council. Emily was the one that spelled those rings. She was also the one that made that compass that could detect vampires."

"It must have been her way of helping the Council keep the town safe from vampire's even while in Katherine's service," Stefan murmured. "Jonathan Gilbert thought he'd created those devices, but it was really her spelling them in secret."

"Right under Katherine's nose," Damon swirled his bourbon before he drank. "She always was a sneaky witch."

"There was something else," Elena said. Bonnie took the grimoire from her bag and Stefan pulled the tray out of the way as they all put their mugs down. "In one of the journals, Jonathan Gilbert wrote about how Pearl stole another device from him, but hadn't discovered it until after they burned the vampires in Fell's Church."

Bonnie opened the grimoire, flipping carefully through the pages. "Here are the rings, and the compass," she turned the page, "And then this." They all leaned forward to look. "It says that it's a device that can _incapacitate_ vampires for a short period."

"How?" Damon questioned lowly.

"It emits some sort of sound that only vampires can hear,"

"Like a dog whistle?" Alaric asked.

"Essentially, I guess."

"If Pearl had the device on her when she was captured by the Council," Damon speculated, standing and going to sideboard and refreshing his glass from the decanter. "But was actually sealed in the tomb beneath the church instead of burned—then she must have still had it on her in the tomb." He turned to the group and gestured with the glass before taking a sip, "We should look for it."

"If Jonathan Gilbert thought it burned in the church fire," Stefan pointed out, "What makes you think it could have survived the flamethrower in the tomb?"

Damon shrugged. "I don't know. What I do know, little brother, is that if it did survive the fire, then I don't want Uncle Douchebag getting his hands on it—seeing as its a weapon against us. He has the journal telling him what happened to the device, he knows that the vampires were sealed in the tomb instead of burned 145 years ago, and he knows that we opened the tomb. So assuming that he thinks we already have it or it's still in the tomb—survey says we should look for it before he does."

"He's right," Elena said in agreement, standing to face the others.

"See," Damon pointed at the teen. "She knows. Besides, I'm in charge."

"Who put you in charge?" Bonnie asked, packing up the grimoire.

"I did." Stefan said.

"Stefan was in the slope of a nervous breakdown," Damon informed them blandly. "But the power shift still stands. We're looking for the device, I don't want something that could hurt us in that bastard's hands or the Council's."

"Tomorrow after school," Stefan stood.

Damon looked at his brother for a moment. "Fine."

"You being responsible," Bonnie said, standing and slipping the strap of her bag over her shoulder, "Is creepy."

"And you being judgy," Damon returned, "Is still annoying. I have nothing to prove to you, little witch."

"If you hurt Stefan like that again, it will be fear that you have for me." She warned ominously.

He faux shivered. "I'm so scared." And gave her his vamp-face.

"And I'm not scared of _you_ , Damon Salvatore." Her expression was stiff and her fingers twitched, holding herself back. "But you will be of me." And they locked glares for a long moment, before Bonnie visibly snubbed the vampire. She had a friendly smile as she looked at her friend, "We'll see you at school tomorrow, Stefan. Come on, Elena." She passed the long-haired brunette.

"Right." Elena blinked. "Bye, guys." She gave them a wave and followed Bonnie out.

"Where do you find these people, Stefan?" Damon complained.

Stefan deadpanned, "You like them and you know it."

"I'd like to torture them," Damon agreed. "I know _that_."

"You've finally met people who aren't afraid of you and take your crap, you must be beside yourself." He teased with a grin.

"I will ground you," Damon warned him and Stefan laughed.

"I should be going, too." Alaric set his empty mug on the tray with the other cups as he stood. "I have to figure a lesson plan-- no I don't. Caroline has completely taken over with these Founder Floats. I don't have to do anything but supervise."

"Can't wait." Stefan smirked.

"He means that, too." Damon pointed out.

Stefan ignore him and held out the plate to the man. "Cookie for the road?"

"Sure." Alaric took one of the last standing Oreos and ate it. "Thanks."

"Only so I could do this," and Stefan kissed the crumbs from the corner of his lips.

Damon muttered wryly as he finished his drink, "The fact that you have a more active sex-life than me, means that there is something truly wrong with the world."

"That's because you eat all your dates," Stefan kindly pointed out.

"I don't date,"

"Maybe that's your problem." Alaric told him.

"No." Damon said. "I am not taking dating advice from the guy sleeping with my baby brother." He shuddered. Alaric shook his head, but chuckled at the vampire's discomfort as he left.

"See," Stefan turned to his brother, "You're already making friends."

"Just because I haven't killed him yet, doesn't mean we're friends."

"Really? With you, isn't that the definition of friends?"

"Ha ha. I am not befriending your... boyfriend, Stefan."

"Why not?" Stefan pointed out, "I mean, there's the whole you-killed-his-wife thing, but you became friends with Elena and we were dating, and there's the you-killed-her-birth-mother thing."

"You've never slept with Elena." Damon pointed out. Then added, "And she never tried to kill me,"

"Please." Stefan scoffed. "Everyone you know has tried to kill you. If we went with that logic, you'd have no one." Damon said nothing and simply turned his back to his brother, topping off his glass. The teen stared at him guiltily. He approached his brother with the plate, "There's one left."

He turned stoically to his little brother. "Trying to bribe me with an Oreo, Stefan?"

"If you don't want it..." he started, then smiled as Damon's hand flashed and he snatched the Oreo and dunked it haughtily into his bourbon.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Stefan set the oven to preheat. He got a casserole dish from the cupboard below and put the small hen in it with two cups of water. Alaric stood behind him at the breakfast bar with the chopping board and fresh vegetables.

Stefan washed his hand in the sink. "How's it going over there?"

"I can cut vegetables," Alaric told him in faint amusement. "I've been cooking for myself for the last 2 years and change." It was followed a moment later by: "Shit," hissed quietly and the chopping halted.

Stefan instantly smelled the blood and was at Alaric's side in a flash of speed despite the man only being 3 feet behind him. The teacher was holding his left index, as blood welled from the cut and dripped onto the wood board.

"You okay?" Stefan managed, eyes riveted on the liquid red; like the drip of water against a steel sink bottom in a silent house; it echoed through the vampire's head like a call.

"Just a cut," Alaric went to the sink and ran it under the tap, his hissed lost in the running water.

Stefan's fingers were drawn to the blood, smearing it with his fingers. They shook as he rose his hand, fingers smeared preciously red. His jaw ached and mouth watered as they drew towards his mouth on their own accord. He gripped the edge of the breakfast bar with force, his knees almost buckling in ecstasy of human blood on his tongue after 74 years. His tongue worked his fingers clean and he swallowed the moan as he swallowed the blood.

He couldn't believe he'd just done that! Stefan pulled his fingers from his hungry mouth in shame but his want only grew. God, how his every cell throbbed painfully with want for more.

Alaric turned off the tap. "Shit, it's still bleeding. Is there paper towel?" he searched the counter, hand held over the sink. _plink._ His blood dripped into the sink and Stefan was pulled to his side.

Alaric was pulled back to attention as Stefan took his hand. "Stefan, what are you--?!" he was wide eyed as the vampire wrapped his lips around his bleeding finger. Stefan groaned as the cut bled directly onto his tongue and he sucked. "Stefan, stop!" Alaric shoved at his shoulder with his free hand and tried to pull his captured one free; but Stefan gripped his wrist painfully tight, preventing him from pulling away and cracking the delicate bones under the pressure. "Ah!"

But all too soon the flow abated from the small limb. And Stefan released it with a growl as discontent. He was still hungry, always so fucking hungry!

He wanted more, he wanted it all! He grabbed the man and shoved him roughly back against the counter, knocking the chicken dish and sending it smashing to the floor. But this was the meal he wanted, this was what he truly hungered for. His fangs descended hungrily in relief, the throbbing veins crawled around his eyes, his eyes turning a deep dark red.

"Stefan, stop!"

He was demonic as he wrenched the struggling Alaric's head to the side and lunged for his lovely exposed throat.

The oven beeped—and Stefan was jolted awake by his alarm clock. He looked around his room in momentary confusion before he quickly shut his alarm clock off, laying back heavily.

"It was just a dream," he assured himself quietly, feeling his fangs scrap against his bottom lip. He stared at his ceiling, trying to calm himself from the hype the dream had left him in as it continued to run through his mind—not vague like a dream, but vivid like a memory. It took him longer than he would have liked.

Stefan ran his tongue over his human teeth as he climbed from bed. Even without his fangs, his canines were pointed like a simulation of fangs, just not as prominent as his _real_ ones; like something telling him he would always end up this way. He paused long enough to feed Salvatore some flakes, before he opened his balcony doors and leaped down.

Barefoot and in his flannel bottoms and wifebeater, he raced into the woods at speed—trying to burn some of his nervous energy off as fast as possible. He felt amped up and unusually predatory after his vivid blood lusting dream, his fangs coming down sharply as he tracked some larger prey; he would just drink more on his hunt this morning to compensate for the gnawing hole of _hunger_ in his throat, drown out the _want_ with animal blood.

Stefan returned to the Boarding House, clothing and skin covered in grass and dirt stains. He'd tracked a young doe in the woods and was unusually vicious in his takedown of the mammal. The dream had just left him so filled with craving and _hunger_ , that the 'human' part of his brain was subleased temporarily by the 'monster' and he tore into the poor, frightened creature with such fervour, feed so harshly, that he nearly Ripped it apart. He left the drained carcass for the other predators to strip the meat from bone. He'd managed to clean most of the blood from his neck and chest with grass, but his wifebeater was still stained in blood.

There was a moment pause in the hallway upstairs as he encountered Damon on the way to his bedroom, caring a glass filled with donor blood. Stefan lashes fluttered as he smelt the human blood and pursed his lips as his mouth watered, but did not swallow. Damon didn't ask if he was okay, just raised a dark brow and Stefan said nothing in return. The moment passed and Damon went downstairs while Stefan showered, dressed, and went to school.

Stefan used Caroline's gruelling building schedule for the Founder's Day floats that the Seniors were building to distraction, making sure to do the heavy lifting, to avoid conversation. Every time he caught sight of Ric when the teacher did the rounds, he remembered the fear and horror on his face and was flooded with guilt and shame.

...

The four school attendants met up with Damon after school to check out the tomb under Fell's Church for the mysterious device as decided the previous night. They transversed the woods toward the church.

"Stef, are you okay?" Alaric gently pulled the vampire back and let the others get ahead to give them some privacy. "You've been giving me odd looks all day."

"Chicken dinner," Stefan blurted. He hadn't meant to say that, but the stupid dream had been on his mind all day.

"What? You want to have dinner?" Alaric smiled, "Okay."

"I'll cut the vegetables," he added, just in case the man got any ideas.

"If you insist," he chuckled. They caught up with the others.

The vampires used their strength to uncover the opening to the tomb that Bonnie had fallen through when the ground had collapsed under her. The rope ladder was still set up from when they had all gone down, Sheila included, to open the tomb. The brothers leapt down, with the bags, and Stefan made sure the two girls and teacher made it down safe. The flamethrower was still sitting abandoned in the dirt.

"The barrier's still down right?" Damon cast aside at Bonnie as Stefan and Elena handed out flashlights.

"Go inside first and see, Mr In-charge." Bonnie told him, flicking her flashlight on and shinning it in his face.

Stefan sighed and turned on his own torch, proceeding into the darkness of the tomb, Elena and Alaric following. "Will you two ever get along?" he didn't get an answer and he didn't think he was expecting one. "Let's just find this thing, please."

The vampire and witch took up the tail, but soon enough the group came to a halt.

"Look, the catacomb diverges." Elena shone between the two passages. "We're going to have to split up."

"Alright. Two and three," Damon decided. "A vampire each."

"This feels like getting picked for teams in gym class," Alaric mused to Elena.

"Bonnie and Damon, you take that way," Stefan pointed with his light to the left. Then he shone his light down the other, "And we'll go this way."

"Why are we stuck together?" Damon questioned. "And I'm in charge, remember."

"Yeah," Bonnie agreed.

"It's already decided. And look, my plan's already working—you're agreeing with each other!" Stefan's team all shared grins as the brunette vampire received glowers.

"Come on," Bonnie growled at Damon, turning down their chosen tunnel. "Let's just get this over with and find this thing so we can get out of here."

After sending one more glare his brother's way, Damon stomped after the witch. "Bossy."

The vampire and two humans advanced down their chosen catacomb, the scuffs of their foots steps on the dirt and stone, and breathing magnified eerily as they bounced off the close quarters. They descended the stone steps into the first chamber.

"God, this is creepy," Elena said as they toed around in vampire ashes, bits of burnt clothing and scored pieces of bone.

"It had to be done," Stefan said softly. "If they had gotten out, they would have been bent on getting revenge against the Founding Families for putting them in the church to burn. I'm sure they would have preferred that than to be imprisoned down here to starve and desiccate for 145 years."

They went through several chambers without success of finding anything.

"I wish I could remember where I saw Pearl before," Stefan muttered, "I just never thought that we'd have to come back down here."

"Maybe Damon and Bonnie found something," Alaric said.

"If they're not too busy bitching at each other about each other," Elena pointed out as they made their way back through the catacombs and out of the tomb.

Stefan packed away the flashlights as they waited in the anti-chamber to the tomb. Elena took out her cell to see if she might be able to call, but there were no bars down here.

"I can hear them," Stefan told the pair, head cocked lightly as he concentrated on the scuff of footsteps. "They're _quiet_. That can't be good," he noted.

The pair exited the tomb in a fouler mood towards each other than in the beginning. Looked like Stefan’s attempt for them to be friendly failed epically.

"Any luck?" Stefan asked, taking their flashlights.

"We found a pocket watch." Damon announced, "It looks nothing like the picture that was in Bossy's book, but it has an inscription inside with Jonathan Gilbert's name and the date, it could be something or it could be nothing."

"Can't you just check if it's imbued with magic?" Elena questioned.

"I _could_ ," Bonnie agreed, "If he'd hand it over," she glared at the blue-eyed vampire.

"Wasn't it just last night that you said I should be afraid of you?" Damon mocked. "'Cause I got nothing, witchy-pants."

"I was trying to be polite, but if you insist..." her fingers spread, tense, palm towards Damon and arm outstretch, and muttered.

"Argh!" Damon grunted in pain as it felt like the cells in his brain were exploding, he clutched at his head, gritting his teeth.

"Damon! Bonnie!" Stefan and Elena both shouted in suck and concern.

Bonnie continued for a few seconds more to get her point across before she stopped. Damon was breathing harshly, as he straightened, his vamp-face slowly morphing back into his handsome human one as he gave her a dirty, pissed look. Bonnie stared back impassively, turning her palm up and waited pointedly.

"I'm going to relish tearing into your throat for a second time, Bennett." Damon slapped the watch into her palm as his brain healed and the headache eased off.

"Just try," she said. Bonnie put her other palm over the watch, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, concentrating. A gust of wind curled through the chamber, lifting the girls' hair. The witch finally opened her eyes. "There is magic in it," she pointedly handed the pocket watch to Stefan.

Alaric and Elena crowded the vampire on either side as they inspected the watch, but there seemed to be nothing extraordinary about it. Other than it being an antique and heirloom, the arms stopped because it hadn’t been wound in decades. Stefan flipped it shut and handed it back to Damon.

"You can't tell what _kind_ of magic is in it?" Alaric asked. "Like what the spell _does?_ "

"It doesn’t' work like that," Bonnie sighed. Damon looked about to make some unhelpful, witty comment but twin looks from Stefan and Elena held him off.

"What would John even want it for—if he even does?" Stefan wondered aloud. "He's had several openings to expose us to the Council. He could have staked me after he hit me with his car and I was down for the count. Why go through all the trouble with this device?"

"Trying to protect Elena?" Alaric suggested. "He did warn you away, Stefan."

"Maybe," Stefan consented. "And it's not like the tomb vampires are a problem."

"Does he know that?" Bonnie wondered, the others looked surprised by the question.

"When he tried to taunt me at the party, he blathered on about how the vampires rounded up in '64 were never burned but sealed in the tomb below and how I opened it. Then he provoked me so I snapped his neck and threw him over the terrace railing," Damon shrugged. "But nothing further was said on the subject of tomb vampires, so he _could_ think they got out, especially with how eager he reported the blood bank thefts."

"Killing someone tends to tarnish their honestly," Elena said, upset despite herself.

"He's alive and free to cause us all drama we don't need, untwist your panties, Elena." Damon told her mordantly.

She scowled. "You didn't know that when you did it."

Damon leaned close and hissed quietly. "He hurt my brother and you think I was just going to let him get away with that?"

"I know." Elena crossed her arms and turned her back to the blue-eyed vampire.

Stefan rubbed Elena's arm soothingly and squeezed his brother's shoulder. "That's in the past," he told the pair, "It's over and done with. Let's just focus on the real problem."

"Wind it!" Elena suddenly blurted, turning. "It's an old-timey watch, you're supposed to wind it, right?"

Stefan looked at his brother, turning the watch over in his palm with interest. "I don't think that's a good idea..."

Damon wound it anyways and everyone tensed, but nothing happened. "It doesn't even work like a normal wind watch." He shook the thing in irritation. "That was useless,"

"It _is_ over a century old," Ric pointed out.

"That wouldn't matter," Bonnie shook her head. "The magic is still there, if that was the device, it would work. Just like the rings, just like the compass. Magic doesn't fade."

"It's starting to get dark out," Stefan tipped his head back and stared up into the open sky above, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, "We can worry about it later. We have the watch, we have time."

"Wait," Alaric interrupted, stopping them. "The picture in the book was like a little box of gears, wasn't it?" he mimed the shape. "Like the skeleton of a music box or something. Maybe it was separated for safe keeping, in case something like this happened so they couldn't destroy it."

"That actually makes sense, Teacher." Damon said, grinning. "Now we just have to find the other piece."

~ **_T V D_** ~

Stefan pulled the shower door open and stepped out onto the mat. Water droplets dripped down taut, supple flesh. He grabbed a towel from the rack and dried himself. Alaric paused in his ministrations with the straight razor at the sink, a towel knotted around his hips as he admired the vampire in the mirror's reflection.

Stefan straightened and tied the towel around his hips, smirking as he caught Alaric's dark eyes in the mirror. The teen approached, leaning his hip against the side of the sink to watch the teacher. Alaric gave him a small smile as he wiped the blade before looking back into the mirror. He rose his chin and turned his head; starting from halfway down his neck where the stubble ended, his carefully drew the blade upwards towards the hinge of his jaw.

"You look good, you smell good... is there anything you aren't good at?" Stefan teased.

Alaric flinched lightly as he nicked himself with the razor. "Shaving, apparently," the dirty-blond chuckled.

Stefan green eyes were drawn to the well of red against his skin. The drop of blood ran tantalizing down the side of his throat, leaving a faint pink streak in its wake before it settled in the shallow indent behind the man's clavicle. His eyes darkened with hunger.

Alaric set the straight razor on the edge of the sink and reached over for the toilet paper, but Stefan put a hand on his cheek and drew the man back. "Stefan?" he questioned.

But Stefan's gaze was locked on the blood. He kissed the man's collarbone, the faint taste of blood already sending his taste buds into a frenzy. He gave a soft groan, his tongue drawing against the smooth, freshly shaven flesh as he followed the track of blood up his neck.

Instead of pushing him away, Alaric pulled the teen closer as Stefan licked, kissed, and sucked the sensitive flesh of his neck. The vampire could feel the man's blood thrum against his lips through the thin layer of skin, but it was the hunter's delicious blood he wanted to pulse hotly against his tongue. His sharp human canines scraped enticingly against Alaric's skin and the man shivered, hand squeezing the nape of his neck. Stefan's fangs slid out with a sigh of relief and he sunk them hungrily into Alaric's throat unexpectedly.

Alaric cried out in shock and pain, and tried to shove the feeding vampire off, but Stefan had wrapped his arms around the dirty-blond like an anaconda, making the struggle futile. He scrabbled around the sink instead, grasping the straight razor. He slashed the vampire with the sharp razor, cutting through his flesh like butter.

It had Stefan backing off for a moment with a growl but the pain was momentary as it was swallowed by the bottomless hunger inside of him. But he wasn't finished, the warm blood streaking down Alaric's bare chest told him so, he would stop when the blood stopped. And not even then...

He brandished the cutthroat razor like it was a weapon that could truly hurt the vampire and Stefan chuckled at the futility of the gesture as he sped forward and knocked the blade out of his hand. Alaric gave a shout as the bones in his arm shattered, but Stefan was already shoving him back and pinned the teacher back against the glass shower door.

And sunk his fangs back into the already torn flesh of his throat.

His nails sunk into the man's biceps as he gripped the teacher's arms, blood coating both their chests as the vampire tore his jugular, blood gushing too fast for the vampire to catch it all. The didn't stop him from trying as he ravaged Alaric's throat, his struggles growing weaker, nothing but gasps and whimpers. The glass cracked from the pressure that Stefan was applying before it shattered, throwing the both of them back into the tub in a rain of glass.

There was a sickening thud of Alaric beneath him, but Stefan simply bit back into the still man's throat; blood, glass, and flesh in his savage mouth as he groaned in pleasure.

Something caught in the back of his throat—Stefan jolted awake, twisted in his bed sheets, arms wrapped around Alaric's designated pillow when he slept over, fangs savagely tearing into case, his mouth full of feathers even as he salivated from the memory of blood.

Stefan quickly threw the pillow across his dim bedroom, spitting out the feathers. He buried his face in his arms for a minute, pulling at his hair in anxiety before he kicked off the sweaty sheets and rolled onto his back. He felt helpless as he stared at the ceiling and was thankful that Alaric hadn't been sleeping over because of school.

His first dream had been Sunday night, and now it was Thursday morning. He'd had one every night this week. Alaric getting a paper cut in the library. Alaric falling and hitting his head. Always the two of them, domestic and happy—normal. Then Alaric would injure himself, bleed, and the blood would draw out the Ripper, no matter how small the trickle. His dreams were all awash with Ric's blood and the driving hunger Stefan had for it, always losing control against the bloodlust.

Stefan sat up against his headboard and turned on his bedside lamp. He pulled his journal into his lap from the table where it had a permanent position all week and wrote through dawn against his raised knees.

He swallowed against his dry throat as he recounted the dream in vivid detail, filling the pages with visual representation of his shame, thirst, fear and agony. It had been years since he had dreams filled with blood and couldn't help but speculate and analyze why. What his subconscious might be trying to tell him through these dreams? It made his undead heart ache deeply with the conclusions he was drawing.

He'd been trying to drown out the siren call of human blood, Alaric's, by feeding on more animal blood. It was like he was dehydrated and he was drinking molasses to curb his thirst instead of water. That was to say... it wasn't helping, not anymore. Not when the dreams continued, not as his hunger continued to awaken for the thing he could never give it.

He finally forced himself out of his spiralling thoughts as his alarm went off. He set his journal on his bed and climbed from it, grabbing the fish food from the shelf, he leaned over the fishbowl on his computer desk:

"You're the only one I could never hurt, but simply because you lack the thing I thirst for most. I wish desperately to God that I could say the same for the others." He sprinkled the flakes into the water and spent a minute watching Salvatore dart around smoothly to collect each flake.

Stefan grabbed the sweater from the back of the chair, zipping it around his bare chest. He couldn't face his en suite so soon after that dream, so he went out onto his balcony and dropped over the edge onto the drive below. This had also become a habit of his since the dreams had started. He stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets and walked to the tree line at a human pace, already drawn back into his thoughts and a continuous play of his dream... s.

The vampire returned half an hour later, going for the faster feed, a nest of sleeping squirrels. He continued to drink blood not because he had a desire for it, but because he knew if he didn't, he would lose what thin veil of control he had left to him. He was halfway into his room before he even realized his brother was present. Damon sat on the foot of his bed, leaned back on his hands. Stefan's green gaze darted from his brother, to where his hand lay so close to his closed journal.

"Don't worry," Damon read his expression easily. "I didn't read it, as tempting as it was. I'm a changed vampire, remember?"

"Of course." Stefan stayed where he was, no matter how much he itched to flit over and grab his journal. What would Damon make of his dreams? Would he draw the same conclusion that Stefan had? "What's up?" he stuck his hands into his sweater pockets for lack of anything else to do as he stood awkwardly in the middle of his own bedroom.

"That is the question of the week," Damon agreed. "Since you're not going to admit it, why don't I say it?" he took his brother's silence as agreement. "You've been having blood dreams, Stefan—the equivalence of wet dreams—side effects including, but not limited to... premature fang ejection, tearing into your pillow like it's the supple throat of a lover, animal blood binges to try and curb the hunger." He pulled the torn pillow from behind his back and into his lap. "I was willing to stay out of it, hoping you could work through it alone... but you're manifesting, Stefan." He tossed up a handful of feathers spilling from the assaulted pillow in his lap for emphasis.

"There's nothing to worry about," Stefan assured him. "I just get these dreams sometimes. It's been really stressful lately." It was both true and a lie, but he said it with convictions. These were crisp, clear, with all the detail of a live moment, not choppy flashes, a broken film reel of a past blood fugue. His gaze drifted to each of the drifting feathers from the light breeze coming through his open balcony doors.

Damon dipped his chin in acceptance of the point, but his blue eyes still held concern. "I think you should stay home," he announced, standing and tossing the pillow back onto the bed.

"No." Stefan shook his head. "You're not barring me from school again. I accepted it before because I was not in a stable place and really needed my big brother. But this is not that, I can't be trapped in here like some damsel in a tower—that is the last thing I need. The dreams go away, they always do."

And he stalked passed his brother into the en suite, closing the door. He could hear Damon linger so he stripped from his clothes, opened the glass door and stepped into the shower. He flinched as he remembered the thud Alaric's body made as the crashed into the tub, too fixated on the man's blood to even wonder if he broke the teachers neck or cracked his skull as he lay motionless.

Stefan took Damon's absence when he stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp and in a towel as acceptance as he got dressed. His journal still laid untouched on his unmade bed, but the pillow and scattered feathers were cleaned away. A small smile graced the corner of his mouth, Damon used to do that sometimes when they were kids.

He grabbed his bag and headed out. Damon roared up in his Camaro Convertible as he stepped down the porch.

"Get in," Damon told him, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "I'll drop you, I have things to do."

The brunette quirked an eyebrow in response, but tossed his bag in the backseat. Stefan jumped over the door instead of opening it and as payback for shoes on his upholstery, Damon put the peddle to the metal before he was seated. He chuckled as his brother's styled hair became windswept by the time he dropped him off at school.

The Founder's Day Parade was the next day on Friday, so it was just last minute touch-ups to the floats and costumes, the rest of the day back to regular scheduling.

There had been a small incident, with no injuries, thankfully; Stefan did not want to see how that might have played out with his tenuous connection to his mentality at the moment. Some wires got crossed, there was a collision of paths, paint everywhere—red paint—on the pavement, on students. He was mesmerized as a glob trailed towards him, like it was magnetized. He felt the ache in his jaw, held his breath subconsciously so he could not catch the enticing scent— _it's not blood!_

He bent the metal frame of the trailer, tearing himself away and back just as the paint touched the toe of his boot, breathing heavily. The pavement was quickly hosed, so were the students much to the others amusement, sent to the showers then set back to work in their dry and clean gym clothes, all under the strict guiding hand of team leader Caroline Forbes.

"Stefan?"

"Yeah?" the vampire blinked his dry eyes rapidly and tore his gaze away from the red spot on the toe of his left shoe to the doppelganger seated to his right on the bleacher by the football field where they'd decided to have lunch.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He turned to stare out blindly across the field instead, eating a chip as an afterthought. He just bought them from the cafeteria so he wouldn't be the only one not eating.

"Well, I'm convinced!" Bonnie said mildly from his other side.

Stefan snorted in his own mild amusement. "And I am convinced that you're convinced."

"Well, I'm not." Elena grouched. "You look tired, Stefan."

"Just a little lack of sleep, Elena." He assured. "No more than usual. I'll just be happy when the parade is over."

"And Caroline can go back to being a moderate control freak," Bonnie added. "That girl is giving _me_ nightmares." They all chuckled. The bell rang a few minutes later and they groaned instead. "Back to the whipping post."

...

Stefan went with the entire extended group of friends to the Grill after school to celebrate finishing the floats with pool, darts, soda and nachos. He discovered Damon and Alaric at the bar when Matt and Tyler got everyone's orders; he tuned his hearing to listen, heard the word 'device' and was disappointed to find it was business and not pleasure that brought the two together or maybe it was better in the long run.

He caught blond hair from the corner of his eye and followed John Gilbert as he walked to the bar and cockily sat a couple stools from Damon, flagging his order from the bartender. John smirked over at the pair and literally said 'howdy', Stefan didn't have to hear to know, he could see the shape of it against the man's lips.

Stefan could feel the tension from here and was just thinking about interceding or not when his attention was called away as it was his turn and he picked up a cue, distractedly chalked the tip and lined up. He screwed up his shot, much to the guys' delight.

When he looked over again, the threesome was steadfast ignoring the other. Stefan put his cue back on the rack and excused himself to the men's room; he just needed a minute. It wasn't that he was holding back, it was that he was off his game. Using the urinal, he washed his hands at the sink, his green gaze automatically flicking over as the door opened and closed—and there stood John. Stefan straightened cautiously, grabbing paper towel from the dispenser over the trashcan to dry his hands. He didn't have to wonder if the man was there for nature or him, as he spoke:

"I thought I could convince her to stay away from you with the journals." He was in front of the door, much like at the Gilbert home. Stefan knew that he could easily overpower the man to make his exit, but for whatever reason, felt helpless and weak, same as before. "Elena is a very determined young woman... one I fear who is determined to get herself killed, or worse—turned—because of her open, benevolent heart that could even feel sympathy for the devil. For _you._ " He sighed. "I thought you of all people would understand, Stefan. With your history..."

Stefan's too recent nightmares flashed through his mind and he felt a helpless, directionless resentment. He growled and flashed forward, grabbing fistfuls of John's shirt and shoving him back against the paper towel dispenser. "You don't know anything about me!"

John was unflinching in his anger; perhaps because of the protection afforded by the Gilbert ring or simply because Stefan was a poor excuse for a vampire. "I know that blood sings to you. Each pulse the ringing of the dinner bell to that monster, that _Ripper_ inside of you that feels nothing but glee and hunger at the sight, the smell of blood. Salivates at the injury of others. Men, women. Old, young. You don't care. Children--"

"I've never hurt a child!" Stefan exclaimed in horror.

"Haven't you?" he wondered. "You've killed mothers and fathers, torn them limb from limb in your bloodlust. What do you think that does to a child? When they discover the macabre scene you've left them to return home to, when an officer has to sit them down and tell them they will never see the ones they loved whole and happy and _alive_ again—because a monster, a demon, couldn't help himself! Haven't you?"

Stefan released him, backing away; his green eyes glistening with the sting of unshed tears. "That's not me," he whispered weakly, "That's not who I am." _ANY MORE!_ rang loudly in his head through the screams of his victims like an accusation. "I just want to have a normal life!" he shouted with a deep desperation inside of him.

"Normal ended a long time ago for you, Stefan." He told the vampire firmly, if almost sympathetically. "There's none of that for you here, you're just fooling yourself trying to look." John silently regarded him a moment longer before he turned and left the bathroom, leaving the upset vampire alone.

Stefan caught his reflection in the sink mirror. He looked like your normal teenager. The light overhead chose that moment to flash and flicker, cutting his face into slashing shadow. He looked like your normal teenager—but that just masked what lie beneath. Stefan was hopeless in the thought that if he hung out with careless, happy teenagers, it would rub off on him and he could be just like them—normal.

He bent over the sink and splashed water over his face like he could baptize his demons away.

Switching it off, switching it on, twisting the ring off his finger, never settled. Forces were determined to keep him here, keep him living the same mistakes over and again. He could run away from a lot of things, but he could never run away from himself.

He grabbed paper towel from the dispenser, patting his face dry and pressing the sheets over his closed eyes, cloaking himself in darkness, breathing deeply. He heard the door and lowered his hands to find Alaric standing there.

"Hey," Stefan greeted quietly. He crumpled the damp sheets in his hands and threw it the garbage.

"Damon went to have a little chat with John," Alaric explained, he turned the lock on the door. "He heard you shout and then John come out, he wasn't happy. I came to check on you," he didn't ask the obvious question.

"I'm tired of fighting," Stefan sighed. "That's all it feels like lately."

"I know, but once Damon finds the other half of the device, we hold Gilbert in a stalemate, everything will calm down. It'll all go back to normal."

Stefan snorted quietly at his wording and closed the distance between them. "You're probably right." He cupped Alaric's cheek, thumb brushing over his prickly stubble. "Your stubble, I always liked how it feels against my skin, feels real. Don't shave it."

"It makes me look older." He mused. "Better for teaching teenagers."

"You're not old, Ric. In fact, you've hardly even lived... yet you've lived more than I ever could."

"When you say stuff like that, Stefan," Alaric admitted, putting his hand over his on his cheek, "It scares me a little."

"Sorry," Stefan continued to stroke his cheek; as long as this fantastic stubble was there, he would know that it had all just been a nightmare. "I haven't been sleeping well the past few days," he confessed quietly, unable to look into his blue eyes so he focused on corner of his lips. "I've been having these dreams, about you, _us_ ," he corrected. "They start out great, amazing, and then..." he shook his head helplessly. "I never want to hurt you, Ric." This time he did look up into his eyes.

Alaric instantly pulled his boyfriend in, afraid the vampire would come apart if he wasn't there, holding him. "You won't hurt me, Stefan." He whispered into the hair above his ear.

The brunette wasn't entirely certain that was the truth, so he said nothing and instead fisted the material of the man's shirt at the back of his shoulder and lower back, cheek pressed against the side of throat, feeling the prick of stubble. John was right, it sung to him, called just for him. His eyes slipped closed and he sighed, slumping against the man and the strong comfort of his embrace, feeling Alaric's body play a living tune against him. Stefan always found it so beautiful, alluring. You always craved most what you couldn’t have.

The dreams flashed through his mind; the heat of the blood, its sweet taste and call. But he didn't remember the teacher's heart pulse. _This is real_ , Stefan thought. _As longs as this beat sings in my ears, it is the truth._

The door rattled and the pair pulled apart. "Hey! Is someone in there?" they pounded on the door, "Open the door, I gotta take a piss!"

"This will be awkward to explain," Alaric noted.

"You go first," Stefan said quietly, "Act casual." And he stood behind the door.

Alaric raised a brow, but did as instructed and unlocked the door, quickly pulling it open. "Sorry, man. The door must have jammed," and he passed the guy. The disgruntled man headed straight for the urinal, and Stefan slipped out before the door swung closed with a little vamp-speed outside the slightly inebriated man's notice.

"Smooth," Stefan teetered to a halt, toe and toe with his brother, a neutral expression on his face. "Have a little face-to-face meeting?"

"How did your little chat go?" Stefan returned, po-faced.

"You tell me," Damon said, watching him closely. "Should I have snapped the weasel's neck again?" Stefan couldn't stop the minute tightening of his expression and Damon's steeled in response. The brunette quickly put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from flitting off and doing just that. "What did he say to you?" he growled.

"The same party line as before," he shrugged.

Damon scrutinized his a moment longer, but his brother didn't seem willing to give any further detail up. He exhaled. "Wave goodnight, Stefan. I can feel Judgy glaring daggers at me."

Amusement smoothing the lines of his face, Stefan looked over Damon's shoulder to the pool table where he could feel Elena's curiosity/concern and see Bonnie's narrowed gaze pinned to his brother's back. Grinning, Stefan waved at the girls and gestured between Damon and the door. They waved back.

"Alright, already." Damon shuffled him out the door and to the car.

...

Stefan was reluctant to go to bed, but he knew that it wouldn't do to be half-asleep when he was part of the parade the next day after school. But even then he lay awake in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, wondering what horrible domestic-turned-bloodlust-Ripper scenario was next up on slot. But he eventually lost the fight, no matter how desperate he was not to.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Stefan groaned as his back hit the wood-paneled wall, the picture frames hanging on the wall shaking as Alaric pumped into him, his legs wrapped around the man's waist, the teacher's hands grasping his buttocks in support.

"Ric," Stefan panted, his finger's shoved into dirty-blond locks as Alaric sucked marks and slopping kisses to his partially exposed torso, his shirt buttons half torn open, in too much of a rush to fully undress. Alaric had only one arm out of his tee shirt, it half bunched around his neck, his jeans pooled around his ankles.

This position was perfect for stroking deep inside, Alaric's cock head stroking his prostate with healthy enthusiasm, but was fast draining on the man's stamina. Stefan bit his tongue hard enough for blood to sluggishly fill his mouth before the wound quickly sealed, he drew Alaric's face up to his and gave him an open-mouthed kiss, drawing the teacher's tongue into his mouth and to take his blood.

Alaric grunted as his thrusts speed up, driving his back into the wall, causing a frame to skew momentarily before it dropped to the floor with a crack of glass.

Stefan's desire was driving him insane, driving him hungry. His head thumped back against the wall, arching into the sweaty, panting man, clenching desperately around the blood-filled organ pumping into him, veins crawling around his eyes. He wanted everything of the man.

Stefan pushed harder with his hips, unbalancing the thrusting man, making him stumble back, overbalanced by the vampires weight, and tangled in his jeans; Alaric gave a shout of surprise as he began to fall backward, only to have Stefan jerk his head to the side, exposing his throat.

Eyes filled with dark blood, a mouth full of fangs and a erotic hunger, Stefan lunged for his delicate jugular as they fell—Stefan grunted as he landed face-first on the floor beside his bed, tangled in his sheets, panting heavily.

He was so relieved he'd been knocked from the dream, that he wasn't as hard in real life. He knew how it would have ended, with the added lust of sex with blood, it would have been a complete frenzy. There hadn't even been the enticement of blood this time, just the lust and hunger brought on by sex.

Alaric's head would not have lasted long on his shoulders—thankfully the vampire teen always awoke before that gruesome habit could come into play. Could the ring bring him back from decapitation? Stefan didn't want to be the cause for an occasion to find out. Luckily he wasn't going to have to find that out, as long as his nightmares stayed just that.

He thumped his head against the floor for a full minute before he forced himself to get up. He hopped into the shower instead of hopping over his balcony railing; the thought of any sort of blood actually made him feel ill, even as the craving would always bore a hold into his brain. He dressed and said morning to Salvatore, sprinkling flakes into his bowl. He grabbed his full garment bag from the back of his door and headed downstairs.

He found Damon in the parlor drinking his breakfast. "Have you seen my--? Never mind, found it." Stefan retrieved his bag from the back table, pulling the strap over his head and folding the garment bag over his forearm more comfortably,

"You didn't hunt," Damon noted. "Any particular reason why?" he raised a dark brow that said he already knew and was just waiting for the poor excuse his little brother would provide.

Stefan always hated to disappoint. He shrugged. "I wasn't feeling hungry, that's all."

"Mm."

His gaze flickered away as Damon took a sip from his glass of blood. "I'll hunt after the parade." He added. "You still going ahead with this plan of yours?" he questioned.

"I'll tear apart his place—with glee—if need be, brother." Damon agreed. "I will find the other piece to this device. Of course, I'll drop around first, got to make an appearance for the Council. You--?" he offered.

Stefan shook his head. "Elena's picking me up."

She picked him up at the end of the driveway in Jenna's Mini. He hung his garment bag off the hook on the backseat passenger's side, Elena's own behind her seat. "Hey, Elena?" he questioned hesitantly as he buckled in.

"Yeah?" she glanced over after she pulled onto the road.

"Could we... could I talk to you about something, later?" He was sure he knew what he had to do, had set himself to do it. "After the parade?" maybe she could someone convince him it was the right thing or the wrong thing.

"Sure, Stefan. Should I be worried?" she pondered jokingly.

"Don't worry," he managed a light chuckle, "You're not in trouble."

~ **_T V D_** ~

"I'm having flashbacks," Damon announced as he approached his brother in the active school parking lot wearing 1800's attire. "Terrible flashbacks."

Stefan grimaced as he turned to his brother. "I know," he uncomfortably smoothed his hands down his lapels of his brown Victorian styled jacket, the vest and suspenders underneath making him feel tense and constrained. It being a parade for the day that Mystic Falls was founded, the floats and corresponding costumes were based in the 1800's. It all left him with a subconscious inevitability that was writhing in his brain and it made him feel ill.

Stefan watched his brother's eyes flicker over his shoulder, a minuscule widening before the shutters came back down. Stefan turned and stumbled back a step into his brother, who grasped his arm unseen; it was like she was a ghost back from their past to haunt them.

" _Katherine_ ," Stefan uttered so quietly that Damon only caught it because of his vampire hearing _and_ his close proximity to his brother.

Damon squeezed his arm bone-crushingly. "Elena!" he called cheerily. "Don't you look the picture of elegance and 1800's sophistication." He released his brother and stepped forward. He took the tips of her gloved fingers in the cradle of his palm to give her a half bow. "Won't you give us a spin, Lady Elena?"

With a coy grin, Elena gave a spin as Damon held her hand, giggling as she stumbled a little for the weight of the skirts and the blue-eyed vampire steadied her. "It's not really my style," she smack at the skirt. "Thankfully I was born a 21st century girl."

"Pick up you jaw, brother." Damon turned to him. "Be a proper gentlemen and give your arm to this lady, I've taught you better than that." Still holding Elena's hand, he offered it to Stefan.

Stefan cleared his throat and gave Elena an embarrassed smile as he quickly stepped forward and offered the teenager his elbow. Elena took it with a dimpled smile.

"Say cheese!" Damon quickly snapped a shot with his cell before Stefan could protest. " Teacher and I have a mission while the blond chipmunk is otherwise occupied with the festivities as a Founding Member. So, you two behave yourselves."

"I think we should be telling you that," Elena said. Damon just flashed them a devious smirk as he turned and disappeared into the milling crowd. They were all called to places.

Stefan focused on the warmth of her arm curled around his arm, her side brushing against his. The steady, constant beats of her heart, the expansion of her lungs. The _life_ thriving inside of her of every second of every minute of every hour, continuous, constant. Alive. He looked over at her profile as she matched strides on the thick skirt of her dress. Elena Gilbert; he breathed.

...

Stefan hadn't heard from Damon on news about whether his and Alaric's search of John's rented apartment produced the other half of the device, but got a text from Elena that she would meet him at her house.

He was just about to knock when she opened the door. "Hey, I just got here." Her long straight hair was curled and wavy from being pinned up and hair sprayed for hours before being let down. She looked slightly more Elena like this, the modern clothes helped significantly. "Come in," she smiled. "It's just us," she said. "We can talk in the living room?" she suggested and lead them back.

Stefan nodded and followed, worrying the inside of his cheek. She sat on the sofa and looked at him expectantly, but he stayed standing.

"Stefan, what's wrong?" she patted the cushion beside her. "You can tell me anything,"

Stefan sat on the edge of the cushion. "I know things are still getting back to normal between us," Stefan started carefully, "And I don't want to freshen all that pain for you again by talking to you about-- about Ric and me," he paused and watched her carefully as her plucked brow flickered and her lips tightened a bit oddly in response but she silently indicated for him to continue. He swallowed. "I've been having these vivid dreams— _nightmares._ They just feel so real and--"

"About what?"

"Killing Ric. Losing control and feeding on him, just tearing into him with such hunger and I--" he shook his head, choking on the words.

"They're just dreams, Stefan."

But he shook his head. "They don't feel like _dreams_ , they feel so real. I can _taste_ his blood, the _warmth_ of it down my throat and in my belly." He was too preoccupied to notice if she was acting a little off, just thought it was because they were talking about Alaric and that was still something of a sore subject with them, still fresh. He didn't want to hurt her, but...

"You could never do that--"

"You don't know me when I get like that." He insisted. "Like that, with one taste of human blood, I truly do become a monster. One so starving that I will never stop because I can never get full, no matter how much I drink."

"Even if that did ever happen..." she started. "The ring..." she implied as delicately as possible.

"He shouldn't have to have a ring that brings him back from the dead in order to be in a relationship with me!" Stefan snapped in helplessness, jumping to his feet and pacing the carpet in front of her. "This is why I broke it off between us, because I was afraid of something like this happening. The draw of the blood!" He squeezed his eyes closed against prick of tears, inhaling deeply. "But I just exchanged one never-future for another. I just keep doing this to myself and I can't seem to stop." He opened his eyes and looked at her, his voice a defeated whisper, "Why do I keep putting myself through this? Why?" she looked like she wanted to say something but was holding back. "Just tell me," he said desperately.

"Stefan," she sighed reluctantly. "It seems to me that you're trying to cling to your human-life. But you don't have to attach yourself to a human to keep your humanity. That's like saying you're only somebody if you're dating somebody. Or maybe... haven't you ever tried dating a vampire?" all the strength was suddenly sapped from him body and he slumped on the couch facing her. "You wouldn’t have to worry about bloodlust, or hurting them, or outliving them..."

"Only Katherine," he whispered, and her posture piqued. He had vague impressions of interacting with vampires in the '20's but he was afraid that period would always be lost to him, but maybe that was a good thing in the long run. "But I was human... I've never been with a vampire as a vampire, I usually tried to avoid them, other than Damon and Lexi." Because of Stefan's blood diet, he was an outsider in the vampire circles; and when possessed by his Rippr persona, he didn't think there was a more dangerous vampire out there.

There was utter silence in Stefan's ears, his brow furrowed.

She licked her lips, leaning forward towards him. "Stefan, I l--" she started, when he cocked his head in listening.

"Damon," he said. "He's on the porch." He straightened and twisted back to look at the door. "He must have--" he cut himself off as he heard Elena say something, but not Elena inside, right next to him—Elena outside! Stefan jerked back around, but she was gone, vanished without sound.

Stefan stumbled to his feet, pale as a the ghost he'd just seen. He knocked the corner of the end table, and just managed to save the lamp from smashing to the floor as the front door burst open and there stood Damon and _Elena_. Elena with her hair straight and clothes from earlier.

His sharp ears instantly zeroed in on her beating heart, her breathing, the pulse of her blood. How hadn't he realized how _quiet_ it had been? The lamp smashed unexpectantly in his hands.

"Stefan!" Elena gasped in surprise.

He stared blankly at the sharp shards that cut into his hands and made them bleed. When he looked up, Damon was in front of him.

"Stefan, what just happened?" Damon put his hands on his brother's shoulders, giving him a little shake when he seemed unable to speak.

"Katherine," Stefan croaked, "She was here. Damon..." he shook his head, helpless to say anything more for the tremendous lump in his throat and the fear in his undead heart as Damon squeezed his shoulders with a bruising force he barely felt.

tbc...

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, whatcha think? Katherine's here! Things are definitely bound to get interesting.  
> Ugh, Chapter 6, don't even get me started, guys, seriously. I swear I have been stuck on the same stupid scene for the past week alone. Comments are very lovely.


	7. CHAPTER 6

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

"She was in here?" Elena repeated, coming back into the room from discarding the broken lamp in the garbage. "How?"

Damon flashed back down the staircase into the living room from a quick search of the house to make sure nothing else nefarious had gone down that would annoy him more. "She was invited, obviously."

"I know that," she returned. "But this is _my_ house. Who would invite 'me' into my own house."

"It doesn't matter," the vampire brushed the mystery away. "It happened. She can come and go as she pleases. Now you, brother." Damon turned his icy attention to the silent brunette. He pushed Stefan onto the couch and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of him. "You're going to tell me everything she said, everything she did."

Stefan was still, stiff. He shot a flickering glance at Elena, but it was gone before the girl could even notice it even if Damon did. Katherine's shadow box exploding had been like an aneurism bursting in his brain, times 100. Every memory, every moment, every emotion. The vibrations down the connecting strands of web was threatening.

"She was already in the house when I got here, pretended to be Elena." He said quietly.

"Fine. Then tell me what you told 'Elena'," he amended. Stefan's lips pursed and he was silent in response to his brother's mandate. "We agreed, Stefan. No more secrets. Now I'll say it one last time, nicely... _tell me!_ Or I'm gonna go home right now and read that damned journal," he snapped.

"It wasn't anything important."

"Stefan," Elena said softly, interrupting Damon before he could growl out more threats and get them nowhere. "It sounded important when you asked to talk this morning," she perched on the edge of the cushion next to him, her touch gentle on his arm. He was stiff under her anyway.

"It's not important _anymore_ ," he corrected. He had trouble looking at her when everything inside of him was screaming _Katherine!_ despite her warm touch and her loud heartbeat.

But Damon was not in the mood for his brother's simpering technicalities. His hand flash with vamp-speed, taking hold of Stefan under his square jaw, squeezing enough to hold him and not choke him—yet.

"Damon!" Elena exclaimed in protest, grabbing the vampire's arm.

Damon shook her off. "I've tried being nice. Nice isn't going to work, so I'm done being nice." He turned his glare back to the teen vampire. Stefan didn't try to fight his hold and stared stonily back at his brother's narrowed stare. "It is important, Stefan, because she heard it. She's the enemy here, not me. What information that she has that we don't just puts her another step ahead of us. We don't know why she's here, why now, what she's after. So yes, it is important."

"I wasn't paying proper attention to the silence. I thought I was being paranoid after earlier," he whispered to Damon, begging his brother to understand. But Damon was unmoved and continued staring him with stony silence. "We talked about what I wanted to talk to Elena about."

"Which was...?" Damon prompted, fingernails digging into his skin.

"My... dreams." Stefan said faintly and it had nothing to do with his brother's hold; Damon's lips tightened.

"Go on,"

Stefan couldn't bear to look at Elena, so he continued on into his brother's as his own green gaze got glossy with unshed tears. "My dreams about... losing control, feeding on Ric... and killing him."

"Stefan," Elena whispered, hands clenched together tightly in her lap to cuff herself from reaching out, touching him, trying to comfort him but realized with sadness that it would do anything but comfort him.

"How did she respond?" Damon continued.

"She said that I wouldn't, but even if I did lose control," he swallowed, "Ric has the ring, so he'd just come back." His voice trembled, threatening to break. He didn't blink so the tears wouldn't drop.

Damon tightened his hold briefly, drawing him back to focus. "What else?"

"Don't... I can't..." he could only give his head a little shake in Damon's hold.

"Brother," he said softly.

"She said that I tried to cling to my humanity by clinging to humans, a human life. Why didn't I date vampires? I told her..." he paused painfully. "The only vampire I've been with was Katherine."

Stefan felt guilt swell in at the admission towards his brother; as if not having been with another vampire after in that way was some sort of commitment towards Katherine when that was utterly not the truth. Because god knows that Damon hadn't been faithful in the strictest sense of the word, at least not physically. But for the last 146 years his heart had only been for Katherine.

Damon was _still_. Stefan only saw the micro tightening around his blue eyes because they were a foot apart, to any other eyes, nothing had changed in his brother's expression.

"Damon?" Stefan asked quietly, with barely a sound. Was this that moment, the other shoe dropping that he'd been fearing since his big brother came back to him?

Damon's fingers flexed, but it felt more like a caress than threat, before he finally released the brunette vampire, but Stefan didn't move, gaze intent on his big brother. His designated shadow box was poised and ready to burst and spill...

"Go home, Stefan." Damon told him, standing. "Hunt first, I know you still haven't fed. And then straight home. I'll know if you don't. I'll be there shortly, I need to speak to Elena."

The shadow box settled and quieted. Stefan gave a shaky exhale. "I-- okay." He stood, said a faint goodnight to Elena and left the Gilbert house almost in a daze, Damon and Elena's murmured voices behind the closed door an unintelligible buzz in his ears.

He hunted in the woods on the way home like he was experiencing an episode of shock. Katherine was back and he'd confessed his deepest fear and insecurities to her. Why did she come back, what was the point, why now? Stefan barely had the catalogued mental capacity to wonder these questions, let alone answer them. Would they ever? So he didn't, couldn't.

Somehow he'd managed to catch a rabbit by pure happenstance. They crossed each other's paths, froze for three seconds, locked in each other's gazes, before the bunny bolted for cover and Stefan dove after it with vampire speed on his knees, arm shoved into a thorny bush. He pulled the screeching rabbit out, his hold on its foot. He quickly snapped its neck and drained it, leaving the carcass for some other carnivorous predator to scavenge and continued toward home.

...

Stefan lay in the grass at the shore of the quarry, his eyes slipping closed to the natural, soft sounds of nature; the small falls, the wind through the trees. The yellow sun shinning softly down upon him. It was nice to just get a moment. It was so peaceful, he'd just close his eyes for a minute. If he stayed away too long, someone would take notice and come searching for him—Damon or--

A stick snapped somewhere underfoot behind him, and his eyes snapped open. Stefan opened his eyes to the dim sky overhead and _her_ looking down at him from above.

"Hey," he gave a small, shy smile. "How did you find me?"

He reached up and ran his fingers through the curtain of loose curls that framed her narrow, olive-toned face, tracing her round chin with his fingertips. He smiled up at her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes upon. Intelligent, strong—she was just otherworldly, he could feel it. Meant for bigger and better places, more than she could ever be allotted in her short life. Such a magnificent creature that he had yet to truly know but was therefore determined to. He would know her as she knew him.

He paused as he stared at his naked right hand in a brief swarm of confusion that he was quickly distracted from as she took his hand delicately and circled around him like a dance. She bunched her skirts with her free hand, stepping one leg over him before she settled down, just above his crotch on his pelvis. Heat instantly bloomed inside him.

"I will always find you, Stefan." Her brown eyes were bright. "We're soulmates. There is no place that you can go where I would not find you, my love."

His hands snaked under her skirts, his palms brushing up her thighs. She bit her plump bottom lip lightly, her palms flat on his muscled chest as she shifted back, rubbing against his confined cock that had immediately responded.

He could feel her core, even through her unders and his trousers. "Katherine," he gasped softly, his finger denting her toned thighs. "I love you." His voice was reverent as he looked at her.

She continued to gently but rhythmically rock on his hard, blood engorged cock. "We will always be together, Stefan. Connected. By love," she brought her delicate wrist to her parted lips, piercing the flesh with her fangs unseen. She let her own blood fill her mouth before the wound sealed itself. She caressed his face with both hands, tenderly holding his head as she leaned forward and pressed her ruby lips against his pink ones. He opened against her, only to choke as he got a mouthful of blood. He tried to turn his head away but she held him still forcing him to swallow the copper fluid. She sat back, her blood marking the corner of his mouth.

"And blood. Always and forever." Dark, crawling veins throbbed around her eyes under her olive skin as her eyes were awash in dark red, her fangs bulging from her gums as her blood-coated lips peeled back. It turned her beautiful visage demonic.

He wasn't afraid, but he knew he should be. He was terrified. A shout built up and clogged in his throat. His entire insides roiling in fear but unable to break through the thin barrier of his skin.

His tight grip on her thighs would have been painful had she been human, but she was not, as every instinct told him to shove her away, run to Damon, and fight her off together, but he did not. She tightened her thighs against his hips.

"It was meant to be," She took his hands from her thighs and twined their fingers and pinned his hands with her superior strength to the grass on either side of her head.

"Katherine," he pleaded, not knowing for what. Tears trapped invisible behind his forest green eyes.

She ground down on his crotch and he was helpless as he groaned, throwing his head back, giving his neck to her.

"By love and by blood, Stefan." She lay flush against him, sinking her fangs hungrily into his gorgeous neck.

Blood filled the back of his throat—Stefan sputtered, jack-knifing upright in his bed, legs tangled in his sheets and water dribbling from his soggy bangs down his forehead.

Chest heaving, his wide gaze darted around in bedroom in incomprehension, finally stuttering to a stop as they landed on his brother. Damon stood at his bedside, staring stoically down at him, one eyebrow curved upward, an empty drinking glass in his hand.

Stefan carded his fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back from his face. He wiped the tap water from his eyes and managed to croak: "Was that necessary?" he cleared his throat, licking his lips. Surprise and confusion flickered through his eyes as he tasted blood at the corner of his mouth, but when he ran his tongue around his mouth looking for the sensitivity of a recently healed tear from his fangs—he found none. He swallowed against the sudden gush of saliva; it wasn’t human, it wasn't his, it wasn't animal. But it was there anyway.

Damon didn't answer the question, it was blatantly rhetorical. Stefan glanced over at his cracked balcony doors and the stream of sunrise leaking through. "When did you get home?" He tugged uncomfortably at the wet shirt clinging to his chest, the same shirt he was wearing Friday.

"Couple hours after you left," he answered. "You were already out when I got back." Honestly, Stefan didn't clearly remember going to bed. "Now, stop deflecting... Are you going to tell me—or am I going to tell you?"

Stefan's gaze shot up to his brother. "Y-- you looked?! You-- that's private! You can't do that!"

Damon brushed aside his brother's outrage. "Just the end," as if that made it any better, "But it was enough." Stefan fell silent. "The Scooby Gang will be here shortly."

"What?"

"We have a serious problem here, Stefan." Damon informed him. "I should have seen it sooner. Now get changed, you look a little wet." He tossed the glass to him and left.

Stefan pushed the glass onto his nightstand, sitting in his bed for a moment longer. He wasn't sure if he preferred his brother pushing into his dreams or reading his journal; neither was preferred. He guessed he could be grateful that this was the first time Damon had decided to take a peek into his nightmares.

He climbed from his bed, his sheets and pillow were wet so he pulled them from the bed and stuffed them into his laundry hamper. He fed Salvatore and pushed the balcony door closed slowly before locking it on his way to the bathroom. When he went downstairs, dressed in dry clothes, it was sans Salvatore; there was no doubt what the topic of conversation was going to be when the others got here and he didn't want the fish to witness the dark energy, even if he would forget it in an hour and a half.

He B-lined for the kitchen and the fresh pot of coffee he could smell. He practically inhaled that first cup, feeling the artificial warmth course through him before he refilled. He took out the tray, set four empty mugs on it, sugar bowl, creamer, and the entire coffee pot. He balanced it on his one arm, mug to his lips with the other as he transversed down the hall to the parlor. He heard the cars pull up the drive.

Damon said nothing, changed, as he came down the stairs, heading for the front door as Stefan turned into the parlor. He simply opened the front door and walked away. Stefan set the tray down, topped off his cup, and sat back in the high-backed upholstered chair. Damon grabbed a mug, filled it halfway then topped it off from his favourite cabinet, taking the other chair opposite his brother, leg crossed over his knee.

A couple minutes later a doppelganger, witch, and hunter wandered in.

"Do you always just leave the front door wide open or was the special for us?" Bonnie deadpanned.

"Just for you, witchy-poo." Damon winked.

Cups were taken up and filled with steaming liquid. The three humans took up the couch, Elena consciously sitting at the end closest to Damon, trying to give Stefan space (he was grateful, his dream was too fresh to not connect Elena with it), Bonnie taking the middle again, and Ric the end closest to Stefan.

Alaric nudged Stefan's foot with his own in silent greeting and Stefan flashed him a small smile. Stefan didn't think the man would be so friendly if he knew of the vampire's dreams of draining him dry, that little piece of information currently just resided with himself, Damon, and Elena.

"Let the round table meeting commence," Damon opened. "As everyone is aware... The Wicked Witch of the West is back, and she didn't just stroll into town last night."

"How do you know?" Alaric asked.

Damon's blue gaze slid over to his brother is response.

"What?" Stefan furrowed his brows.

Damon rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. "How long have you been having your dreams?"

Stefan cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. Elena knew of his dreams about Alaric, Alaric knew vaguely that he was having nightmares and not sleeping properly, Bonnie was in the dark, and Damon was the only one that knew of his most recent with Katherine. "A week,"

"There you go," Damon waved a hand at him. "She's been here a week, at least, most likely longer."

"I don't understand," Elena said, looking between the two vampires. Damon waited on his brother.

Stefan leaned forward and put his mug on the coffee table, laying his hands flat on his thighs to be less obvious about his shaky fingers than clenching them into fist. "You think that she's been...?" he didn't want to say it, didn't know which was worse.

"She's been manipulating your dreams, Stefan." He nodded. "Should have realized sooner. But last night she got sloppy or she was caught by surprise—didn't think I would actually _check_ on you. She would have been right two weeks ago. I was just proven right when I took a peek in that saintly head."

"You saw her?" Bonnie asked.

"Felt her." He corrected. "She was gone when I got up there, but I could sense her presence."

"Why Stefan?"

"Let's face it... Stefan's the weak link here." Damon said and Stefan clenched his jaw because it was the _truth_. It would probably always be the truth. "Starting with the animal blood and control insecurities. And all this fucking relationship drama between the 3 of you," he pointed at Elena, Alaric, and Stefan with different fingers on the same hand, "—while entertaining—has given Katherine just the opening and the target that she needed for whatever evil plan she has in mind. Or maybe she's just doing it because she can, just fucking with us, distracting us from the bigger picture, whatever that is, because that's what she does."

"You think she'll try again even though you almost caught her and we know what she's up to?" Elena said.

"Oh, definitely. She'll just take it as a challenge and her response will be 'game on'."

"So what do we do?" Alaric asked in concern.

"A protection charm. That's where the witch steps up."

"Me?" Bonnie's eyebrow shot up.

"You are a witch, aren't you?" he asked sarcastically. "Albeit a pretty useless one this far: couldn't even do a simple locator spell to find the other piece of the Gilbert Device."

"It doesn't work like that," she protested.

"I'm starting to think magic isn't very magical." Damon said. "In fact, I'd go as far as to say that magic has been pretty useless so far!"

"I've only been a witch for 3 months, asshole." She growled. "What do you expect from me?"

"You're supposed to be a Bennett, nothing you've done this far impresses that upon me." He retorted with relish.

"It's not like some metamorphosis of complete knowledge and control when you come into magic. It takes work and time."

"Well, we don't have time!" Damon shouted, on his feet and glaring down at her.

Bonnie took a deep breath, reeling her own rage back in because the damn vampire was right. She couldn't keep letting Katherine do this to Stefan if she had the means to stop it. "Grams will be able to help. I'll go now and be back before tonight." She stood and shifted around the coffee table and legs.

"You do that," he sat back down heavily.

Stefan stood. "Thank you, Bonnie." His hand brushed down her arm and squeezed her hand as she passed.

She had a determined fire in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Don't worry, Stefan. We got this." She squeezed his had in return and left on her mission.

Stefan slumped back into his own chair and looked across at his brother. "Do you think that would really work?"

"Don't see why it wouldn't," Damon drained the rest of his morning spiked cup of joe before he rose and traded it simply for the 'spike'.

"They've been pretty bad, huh?" Alaric asked softly, his left arm reaching across the arm of the couch and the space between them.

Stefan met him halfway, sliding their palms together, feeling the man's pulse beat where his fingertips grazed the edge of Alaric's wrist. "I'll just be happy to sleep through the night." Alaric rubbed his thumb against the edge of the vampire's wrist.

"I found out this morning that Katherine stole some of my clothes," Elena suddenly said.

Damon turned back with a grin at her peeved tone. "That must sting,"

"How would you like it?" she returned, her arms crossed.

The grin widened. "You walking around in one of my shirts?" he teased, his eyes dark. "Other clothing optional."

She scoffed at him but couldn't stop the slight warmth in her cheeks at the clear implication. "I'm pissed. She went through my stuff and wore my clothes," she glanced at Stefan, "She pretended to be me."

"Yeah, she's a real bitch." Damon agreed, taking a sip of his bourbon. "Still in the Top 10 for Best Sex though."

"You were human," Stefan pointed out. "And she was your first. She ruined the connection of intimacy for you."

Damon drew a poignant brow at him. "Dusty off the old PhD there, Dr Salvatore?" he asked sarcastically.

"You were a virgin until you were 23?" Elena gaped at him in shock.

"He used to be a good, wholesome boy," Stefan said.

Damon looked at her, unashamed. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes," she agreed.

"If Katherine Pierce knew about anything," Damon informed her. "It was how to fuck and fuck good. I'm sure Stefan could attest to the fact."

"Great deflection," Stefan monotoned.

Damon flashed him a deadpan smirk. "Redirection is my forte."

"I think that's my cue," Elena said, standing up.

"I'll walk you out," Stefan said, releasing Alaric's hand after a squeeze as he stood.

They walked to her car in the drive. She was about to open the driver's door when she turned to him. Elena hugged him and he couldn't help but be stiff. She started to pull away, feeling his discomfort, but he tuned into her heartbeat, how _alive_ her body sounded, how warm, and pulled her back.

"I could stay?" Elena offered when they parted.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll be okay."

She nodded, reluctant. "Did Damon tell you--"

He stopped her. "It's probably better that I don't know if they found the other half of the device right now."

"Right," she sighed. "Bye, Stefan." She got into the Mini, buckled up, started the engine and pulled around. Elena gave him a last waved before driving out of view, he reciprocated before going back inside.

He returned to the parlor to find both men with tumblers. Two things they seemed to have in common: alcohol and him. They were both good things to bond and become friends over, Stefan hoped to believe.

"It's 2 o'clock somewhere," Stefan commented.

"You told your boyfriend tales of my sexual escapades?" Damon questioned in return.

"Ric thought that I lost my virginity to Katherine, I said you did, but I lost mine when I was 16 to a girl at the fair while you were at war."

"I was out killing men for something I didn't believe in and my baby brother was getting laid out of wedlock." Damon chuckled. "It's still funny."

"You were saving yourself, it's cute." Alaric gave a low chuckle.

Damon glared and plucked the tumbler from the amused teacher's hand. "You just lost your alcohol privileges, Teacher." He pointedly drained the amused man's glass and left.

"I could stay," Alaric offered, unknowingly repeating Elena's earlier offer as he turned his attention to the brunette.

Stefan stepped closer. "You drink and then you ask to stay, am I just supposed to go and let you drive under the influence?" he teased.

"Damn, you figured me out." He brushed his hands up Stefan's arms. "Is that a yes?" he asked more seriously.

"You don't--" Stefan started, looking up into his blues. "Yes," he took the offer with both hands.

Alaric gave him a small smile. "So, in looking forward to a goodnight's sleep, what to do in the mean time?"

"A history lesson," Stefan said, taking the man's hand and leading him upstairs. "I think it's time that you got the tutorial on Katherine Pierce."

...

Stefan sat at his computer desk, Salvatore's fishbowl placed beside the monitor. Alaric was camped out at the table, absorbed in the vampire's journals. Stefan had selected several where Katherine was a prominent shadow on his mind, especially those months when he was still human and years after he was turned. Of course, it was only _his_ version of things, _his_ thoughts of events, _his_ feelings of the woman.

He should have realized sooner what was happening. Stefan should have realized it himself. It wasn't the first time someone had gotten into his head, shown him things, tortured him with it. Lexi used to do it for weeks when she was trying to detox him off human blood. How crisp and real the imagery had been.

His dreams were _never_ like that. Never. But how could he had known that Katherine was back? He was just struggling with his guilt, fear, identity that he just thought it was his subconscious manifesting through his dreams, pointing him to the right course. But instead it was Katherine, screwing with his head—but did that make any of it less of the truth?

Stefan had said nothing to contradict his brother's assumption. That Katherine was just fucking with them, trying to distract them from the bigger picture. Stefan did agree with that to a point, but he was also starting to think that this, with him, was somehow the icing on the cake. He hadn't time to really think into it too deeply, but his previous five dreams with Ric and this one featuring Katherine... he was afraid of the correlation that was slowly forming.

They spent the day in the vampire's room, Alaric pouring over the journals he hadn't the chance to read and Stefan lost in his own thoughts. The brunette periodically leaving to the kitchen to bring the history teacher coffee and food. Stefan didn't mind, he appreciated to domesticity without the bloodshed.

Finally, Alaric looked up and met his green gaze penetratingly. "I think you're the strongest person I know."

Some weight the brunette didn't realize was there, slid from his shoulders and he slumped back in the computer chair. " _That_ 's what you got from all that reading?" he mused wryly.

" _Yes._ "

Stefan swallowed and didn't have it in him to dispute with the teacher further.

...

Bonnie returned as promised, meeting them in the front hall.

"Here it is," the witch pulled out a small chain necklace with a silver pendant hanging from it, and a small yellow stone set in it.

"That's it?" Damon didn't seem impressed. Bonnie glared at him in turn, and Stefan sent his brother his own disapproving look.

Stefan carefully took it from her, gently brushing his thumb over the pendant, before he slipped the chain over his head. It settled around his neck, cool as he tucked it into the collar of his shirt, it coming to rest below the hollow of his throat. Already he felt the knot of tension in his neck ease and loosen.

"You sure that it'll work?" Damon repeated.

"Yes," Bonnie said. "As long as you wear it, you're dreams or thoughts cannot be manipulated while you sleep. The magic will protect you."

"Thank you, Bon." Stefan pulled her into a warm, grateful hug.

"Sweet dreams, Stefan." She gave him a smile before she left.

"Alright?" Alaric asked, gently laying his hand over the pendant beneath the vampire's shirt.

"Yeah."

"You totally want to go to bed early," he grinned. "Don't you?"

"Damn, you figured me out." Stefan chuckled.

"I'm not drunk enough to watch the two of you cutesy-flirt," Damon remarked and left.

"Go ahead," Alaric said. "I gotta grab something from the car."

Stefan nodded and went back up to his room, using the en suite. When he stepped out, Alaric was returned with a gym bag at the table, pulling out some clothes from the bag.

Stefan raised a thick brow when he looked up.

"What? I came prepared," he answered.

The brow changed tone. "Or you're just presumptuous."

Alaric smiled. "Both then." He passed the vampire with the clothes in his arms to the en suite.

Stefan changed into his pyjamas, checked on Salvatore, and made sure the balcony doors were locked before he climbed into his bed dressed in fresh sheets. Shortly after, Alaric crawled in the other side like it was the most normal thing in the world. Stefan smiled as he turned out the light and settled down.

Alaric took his hand and twined their fingers under the blanket. "Good?" he whispered.

"I feel wide awake," Stefan complained, turning on his side to face the man; able to see him in the darkness when the other could not.

"Pre-game jitters," he offered, facing him as well.

"I don't know why," Stefan confessed. "I trust Bonnie and Sheila, I know this will work."

"Then stop worrying."

"That's like telling me to stop breathing."

"You're a vampire," Alaric reminded. "You don't really need to 'breath', do you?"

"Yeah, but it's a bad habit of mine. Both of them are," was the true and wry answer.

But when he finally did fall asleep, it was blissfully blank.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Stefan awoke well into the afternoon, utterly rested and with piece of mind from a dreamless rest. He stretched, loosening his muscles, squirming across his bed, slumping back, tuckered out. He heard the familiar chuckle and sat up, hair a disarray, finally opening his eyes into the shadowed room, his thick curtains pulled closed.

"Hey," he gave an almost dopey smile.

"Coffee?" Alaric answered, a twinkle in his blue eyes as he approached, holding out a steaming cup. "Help wake you up. You slept pretty deep, only rolled into my warm spot when I got up and didn't move after."

"I still want to sleep," Stefan admitted, fingering the pendant loose around his neck. He couldn't remember the last time he'd sleep so deep or sound, even before Katherine started taking director liberties with his dreams.

"It's nearly 3," Alaric informed him, not that he blamed the vampire.

"I have a lot of sleep to catch up on," he pouted, but took the mug. He took a deep appreciative gulp of the hot liquid, and put a hand on Alaric's hip when the man went to turn away, stopping him from going back to the grown pile of journals at the reading table. Alaric turned back to him as Stefan applied pressure to his fingertips, guiding the man towards him. The teacher somehow settled in his lap without spilling the coffee, straddling the vampire's legs. Stefan took one last sip of coffee before he slid the mug onto the nightstand, not taking his gaze from his boyfriend.

"I thought you wanted to sleep," Alaric teased him, even as Stefan brushed his palms up his hips and under the hem up his shirt, and he arched into the cool touch on his warm flesh.

"I can always sleep later," Stefan brushed his hands up Ric's back, pulling the man closer against him and tilting his chin up.

They hadn't been intimate, hadn't been anything really, since the night of the Founder's Day Annual Kick-off Party when they'd gotten back together and Alaric had stayed until Sunday. And then the fucking dreams had started and Stefan had kinda withdrawn from the open affection, not that they did PDA what with their standard in the public eye. But it felt great to get back. Without the dreams, Stefan felt back in control of himself, of that dark hungry urge to drink and devour.

Alaric captured his lips, like an embrace, until Stefan opened up beneath him and he deepened it, fingers in the teen's soft bed head. Alaric rocked his pelvis against Stefan's chiselled stomach, his cock thickening, then his ass down against Stefan's clothed crotch and very interested member. Stefan's breath stuttered against his tongue before the teacher had to pull back for oxygen even as he continue to rocked his hips between point A and B to get either of them off in their clothed confines.

Fingers still in the unruly soft hair, Alaric pulled the brunette's head against his chest; he wanted the vampire to hear how his heart raced for him. Stefan groaned, ear and cheek pressed over his heart as he tightened his arms around the man's chest, hips grinding up to meet him with extra friction—picking the pace and desperation up as he was swallowed into the beautiful music of his lover's body.

Alaric came first; arching into Stefan's stomach, even as he ground his ass down on the clothed thickness and the vampire spilled an instant later with him. Both slump against each other, holding each other as they gasped.

Stefan laid back on the bed, pleasantly sated, hands rubbing up and down Alaric's clad thighs as a wet patch slowly came through his bottoms. Alaric fell forward, propped up on his hands, gazing softly at the vampire.

"I should wake _you_ up with coffee more often." Alaric vowed. "All _I_ got was a tease and shower. Alone."

"I'll make it up to you," Stefan's hands brushed up his hips again, this time catching the hem of his shirt and pulling it off entirely.

"Oh?" he questioned mischievously when the material cleared his head.

"Oh." The vampire grasped the back of his thighs, right below his buttock, and lifted the man as he stood from the bed.

"Christ!" Alaric laughed as his feet touched down on the tile of the bathroom. "Nobody's ever carried me like that before."

Stefan pulled his wife beater off and both men kicked off their soiled pants and underwear. The only things they wore were the 3 magically imbued pieces of jewellery, and soon thereafter, shower gel suds as they made out and washed each other in the shower.

They dressed, Alaric grabbing his discarded shirt but pulling a fresh pair of jeans and boxers from his gym bag. Stefan went to check on Salvatore.

"I fed him while you were asleep," Alaric told him.

Stefan looked over the fishbowl on his computer desk at the man. "Thanks," he traced his finger over the glass briefly, drawing the comet goldfish's attention before he straightened. "I need to hunt," he said as he slipped on a pair of shoes. "But don't eat—we never got to have that chicken dinner, Mr Saltzman." He unlocked the balcony doors and leapt over the railing in shortcut onto the drive, flitting across and disappearing into the wood.

...

"You smell like pine," Alaric nuzzled the nap of his neck, drawing his nose into the brunettes still wild, fluffy hair. Stefan just hummed pleasantly in response. "I can help, you know. I can chop--"

"You said that last time," Stefan said, as he started to chop the rinsed and peeled carrots. "And then you promptly cut yourself."

"Last time?" Alaric asked in confusion, leaning against the edge of the kitchen island to catch his face.

Stefan paused briefly in his cutting, before resuming, his gaze fixed on his task and expression neutral. "It doesn't matter because I have this," Stefan tapped his chest and the pendant that lay beneath his shirt, with the tip of the butcher knife. He continued to cut determinedly.

That was what clued Alaric in that he was talking about his past nightmares. "You told me before, but you never went into any detail..."

"I didn't want you to know, to see. To finally figure out what a monster I am--" _and leave me._

"Stefan," Alaric said softly, placing his hand over Stefan's with the knife, stopping his ministrations. "That's not going to happen, Stefan. That was Katherine--"

"But the fear is mine!" Stefan interrupted, finally looking up and meeting his blue gaze. "That fear, of losing control, hurting someone—hurting _you_ (!)—is with me, constantly. If I don't have a constant strangle hold on the urge, the hunger, I'm afraid I'm going to lose control. I know--!"

"Hey, hey." Alaric murmured, one hand cupping the vampire's cheek, the other taking the knife and setting it down, turning the teen toward him. "That's not gonna happen. I know you, how strong you are. Stefan," Alaric started, taking a deep, nervous breath, him palms getting clammy, "I l--"

"I should have told you," Stefan blurted, too afraid to let him continue. "I just wanted to erase the dreams with something real and good."

Alaric gave a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing Stefan's cheek in allowance. "I just hope you actually know how to cook and aren't just putting on airs. I'd rather not go out with salmonella,"

Stefan scoffed in indignation, but there was light to his green gaze. "I'll have you know that I'm a very good cook. Vampires might not need to eat, but that doesn't mean there's no enjoyment or satisfaction in it. And I don't see a point in eating food that isn't good—so yes, I know how to cook and great."

"Alright, alright." Alaric backed up teasingly with his hands raised. "I'll hold judgement until after I taste it,"

Stefan gave a half-hearted swat at him. "Har har." He went back to chopping.

When everything was prepared and put in the preheated oven with a timer, they set the table in the dining room. 45 minutes later they were sat down to eat with complimenting wine.

"You weren't kidding," Alaric said, helping himself to seconds. "This is delicious, Stefan."

"Thanks," Stefan murmured shyly, pleased. He didn't usually get to _cook_ meals for someone or even himself, so it was nice to see someone enjoy something that he put effort and time into.

"I think this is our first date," Alaric realized.

Stefan smiled. "We'll just have to watch a movie in bed to finish it off then."

He wagged his brows. "Oh?"

"I thought I was supposed to be the teenager?" the vampire laughed.

...

Cleaned up and dressed for bed, the couple cuddled under the covers at the center of Stefan's bed, the laptop claiming either of their thighs as the movie played, a pint of Chunky Monkey with two spoons shared and the last melted dregs long gone. Stefan fought to keep his eyes open, and despite the loud gunfight/car chase scene, he was losing the battle; curled up against Alaric's side, head pillowed on his shoulder.

The laptop lid was clicked closed and the movie silenced. Alaric shifted under him as he put it on the nightstand, making Stefan's sleepy form slump further against his warmth. Sleep closed on him...

_Crimson. Glistening red. Dripping, steady, warm, continuous. Sheets sopping scarlet. Claret pooling on the hardwood floor. Carmine coated his pale skin so beautifully. Coursing through his cold veins; pulsing, singing, alive. Purity. A heartbeat in his mouth, delicate flesh around his fangs, life in his belly._  
_He was strong. He was free._  
 _He was Ripper!_

Stefan jolted awake in his bed and darkness, an uncomfortable heat rising from the top of his chest and into his throat as he tried to calm his heaving breath as he stared at the ceiling. There was stillness in the bed beside him and he was glad he didn't disturb the teacher.

That was the familiar spotty, chunkiness of his normal dream patterns. He was oddly relieved; even if it made him feel almost as disoriented as Katherine's vivid visions, this made him disconnected physically when hers drove him. These were _real._

He found Alaric's hand close to his side and gently intertwined his fingers with that of the sleeping man's.

His were fuzzy, fast like riding on a comet, snapshots of blood, carnage, unbridled hunger. Pieces of a past blood lust where all he felt was hunger and glee, just like John had said. These were the dreams that he told Damon he had before they figured out the truth.

Stefan gently squeezed his hand, brushing his thumb lightly over Alaric's knuckles, but didn't even get a twitch in response. He finally turned his head, able to make out the subtle outline of the man's body but despite his superior sight, all he could seem to garner in the darkness of the room were large ink black splotches and small pale blemishes. "Alaric?" he murmured, reaching over to turn on the lamp at his bedside.

The scent prevailed the registration of the scene beside him. The cloying smell that caught in the back of his throat, even as his fangs descended in thirst. It was like a scene from a horror movie—a scene from his past was even more accurate—like a scene right before him. His light blue sheets were stained dark red, but while they were still soaking, the blood on Stefan's hands and arms, chest, neck and chin was dried and sticky.

He cried out in horror as his eyes landed on Alaric's... severed head laid on his bloodied pillow next to Stefan's, his last ever look, of fear and pain, forever frozen into his open-eyed expression. His pyjama'd body, blood saturated, hung halfway off the bed.

Stefan jerked forward. "Ric?" he croaked. He grabbed his pale cold arm and pulled the man's body, his limbs shaking and weak. "Please!" he tried to align the teacher's body with his head set on the pillow like a crown on display, but it didn't seem to be working. His grasp on sanity shattering like a fragile pane of glass, crashing down around him in sharp, piercing shards. "Ric!" tears cut wet tracks through the dried blood on his face. _Why isn't he healing? He should be healing!_

"Damon!" he screamed. "Damon!" his brother didn't answer, his brother didn't come.

Stefan shook Alaric's body as if that could somehow rouse the man, as if he were just sleeping and pulling a terrible prank. It still broke him when it didn't work. "Ri-hi-ic!" he sobbed. His shaking hands finally pulled from the cold, dead flesh and tore his bloody fingers into his hair. "Please. Please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to!"

He shoved the body in a fit of helpless rage, a wounded, wordless howl leaving his throat raw as it rolled over the side of the bed and made a wet thumping sound as it landed in pooled blood.

This had to be a dream. This had to be a dream! The skin around his throat sizzled and burned, bubbling as the skin was melted away. If this was a dream, he would have woken up by now, he always woke up. But he had the pendant, Katherine couldn't get in his head. His dream... it hadn't been a dream at all. He had manifested, had an episode, been caught in a bloodlust fugue state. _He_ did this. He had gone Ripper on Alaric, fed so hard he tore the teacher's head off; the man didn't stand a chance, not like this, not asleep.

He threw himself off his side of the bed; he couldn't stand it to sit in Alaric's blood, his deathbed anymore. He fell into an awkward heap, curled up, arms wrapped over his head; the silence was loud, blasting in his ears, deafening, hysterical. He felt something sharp and painful pierce through his stomach; it was a true physical pain and he knew he should be screaming in hurt yet he felt it through a blanket of numbness. His emotional turmoil overwhelmed the unattached physical pain that seemed to ail him with no outward source.

The pain in his soul hurt so much. He murdered the man that he loved. He couldn't have a soul if he couldn't even control himself not to do that. He was a monster. He screamed and sobbed to try and cover it up, tearing at his hair, covering his ears—tried to block out the blaring, ringing silence for what it was.

The truth.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he pleaded to the dead man that he couldn't even look at. "I can't. I can't!" It all hurt too much. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't think. He couldn't take it, take himself.

He flipped the switch and quietness filtered through him, stillness, freedom. He slumped against the floor, exhausted. The pain that blackened his soul vanished—but the burning around his neck and top of his chest, and in his stomach seemed to liven and brighten. Just because he no longer had his humanity, didn't mean he no longer felt physical pain.

He slowly unfurled, hand going to his neck, but he could still feel the sizzling in his flesh, _hear_ it and stopped before contact. His attention turned toward his stomach and his eyes widened in surprise to find a stake sticking from his gut and covered in fresh wet blood. So Alaric did manage to fight back after all. Stefan was proud, the man was a hunter after all and he went down fighting even if it had been futile.

He grasped the handle of the stake and carefully withdrew it with gritted teeth, making sure no splinters were left in the wound. He brushed away the fresh blood and watched his own flesh heal. Stake still in hand, wound healed and pain dim, he climbed to his feet. He noted the balcony doors open before he turned in nothing but boxers and blood toward the bed.

The network of shadow boxes were cold and grey, mouldy, forgotten and useless, but for the Ripper box, cut open, on display in a spotlight. He licked his lips as the good times played unheeded by guilt and shame, just hunger. He wished he could remember what happened in Chicago in '22, the only conclusion he could come up with for the memory loss was being the deepest he ever had been in the bloodlust. It was probably the best time in his Ripper life; but like that weekend in Vegas he had no doubt he would never remember.

Now that he wasn’t viewing the scene in raging turmoil, the sheets weren't as blood-saturated as they first appeared; just smears and spatters of blood. Alaric no longer added that special something, out of view over the side of the bed. His Saint-Stefan-subconscious ached to step around and put his now former lover back together, but that same part also recognized the folly so he stayed away.

It felt like he hadn't fed in a while, even though he clearly just had on Alaric. Though that was nothing new, not with his hunger. Oddly, he didn't feel much different after drinking human blood for the first time in 74 years. He thought it'd be more of a high, he'd feel more electric. " _Huh_." He couldn't help but be disappointed.

Finally, he turned his attention towards the second presence in the room. "Brother," he said coolly as Damon watched him warily from across his bedroom, "Wondered when you'd get here, a little late though, don't you think?"

Damon gritted his teeth. "You stupid bastard," he noted, "You went and turned it off, didn't you?"

"All that emotion was tiring," Stefan shrugged. "You seem upset, brother, but enough with the act. I don't care. I'm not that weak, gullible _boy_ anymore, craving your attention and 'love'. You can't hurt me anymore with that bullshit because I simply don't care. We can just go back to the way things used to be; normal. You out of my life and me... well," he flipped the bloodied stake in his hand, "Me finally being a _real_ vampire again and doing what I want. _Drinking_ who I want." He chuckled and licked his lips dramatically, "Dear Ric could have been the best I've ever tasted."

Damon snorted derisively at him. "It wasn't real, you idiot! It was Katherine, she got into your head!"

Stefan scoffed. "Katherine can't get into my head anymore, I have the pendant."

"Oh, really?"

Stefan narrowed his eyes and went to touch his throat again but stopped short, wary of the continued pain.

"Smells like BBQ in here, doesn't it?" Damon crossed his arms over his chest and affected a bored posture. "Go ahead, oh Ripper one. Take a look," he waved his hand at the en suite. "I'll wait."

Stefan glared at his brother for a moment, before he tossed the stake onto the bloody bed and went into the bathroom. He turned on the light and looked into the mirror. He inspected the gruesome wound around his neck and the larger wound where the actual pendant sat, as it remained raw and unhealed. The closest thing he could like it too, was vervain and acid. It hurt like a bitch.

"Apparently we both put too much stock into little Bon Bon. She really sucks at her job in our group dynamic." Damon told him when he reappeared. "The pendant was defective or something and melted into your skin. I peeled that thing out of your melting flesh myself, it was neither pretty nor fun for me, Stefan, but it seemed to wake you up. And why don't you exercise those vampire senses for a second and you would realize that all this blood—it's yours! Courtesy of that stake in your gut, via me. Did that _before_ the necklace, my bad." He shrugged. "You're a little slow on the uptake, baby brother."

"Excuse me for being mind-fucked by Katherine Pierce for a week!" Stefan snapped angrily and Damon smirked at the outburst of emotion.

"I thought you were a _real vampire_ now? All that human blood should have fixed you right up. Oh, wait," he mocked. "You didn't drink any, remember? It wasn't real. I have an idea," he held up a finger, "Why don't we take a look at Ric, huh?" Stefan tensed right up as he watched Damon walk over to the far side of the bed, bent, and picked up Alaric's ankle and dragged the man clear from the bed.

Stefan watched and watched as more of the man was revealed, clad in unstained pyjamas. More and more. Hips, torso, shoulders—and his head(!) attacked right where it was supposed to be.

"Oh, look—you didn't kill him." He waved his hands in fan fare at the man's still body as he watched his brother carefully. "There you go. You can turn it back on now and we can all move on. What do you say, huh?"

Stefan baulked for only a minute at the sight of him, the switch trembling, but when he forced himself to listen and found silence waiting for him instead of the blessed heartbeat, he relaxed. "You say I didn't kill him. Fine, whatever. Something not supernatural must have killed him because he's still dead, the ring won't bring him back. So why the hell would I want to switch it back on?"

Damon groaned in frustration as he glowered at his stupid baby brother, before turning it to the dead man at his feet. He kicked the body with his foot and got a no response from either dead teacher or brother who nearly tore his throat out the first time he pulled that. Alaric's neck was broken, what else could have broken it with such strength and speed to not even allow the man to awaken before his death if not that of a vampire? The ring should work unless it really was a one-hit-wonder and if that was the case, he had no hope of getting his brother back and the Bennetts really needed to up their magic game because this was just pathetic.

"You done with your little tantrum?" Stefan questioned idly, scratching the dried blood from his nails. He looked up when he felt his brothers glare. "Good. Now, enough with all that boring crap," he flicked a flippant hand at Alaric's body, "I have a proposition to renew to you, brother. _Want to get your hands bloody with me_?" he wiggled his already bloodied fingers, stained reddish-brown with his own dried blood. "We should stop hiding like a couple of cowards and just go after that annoying little bitch; finally give dear Kat what's coming to her and turn you back into a badass, not this..." he eyed his brother mockingly, "broken-hearted, useless excuse for a man and a vampire that you've become. C'mon, Damon! What do you say? Let's get you back to being _fun_! Get you out of that packed-lunched, school-drop-offs, soccer-mom motif you pulled on."

Damon crossed his arms and let out at sarcastic bark of laughter that had the brunette arching a brow. "Even without your humanity you’re still trying to get us to work together and be brothers." He shook his head. He needed to make Stefan emotional while he was still raw, get him to make a mistake, give Damon an opening to take him down and contain him. If there was one thing that Lexi was good at other than being completely annoying, it was Ripper Detox and now Damon was her successor. He wasn't going to let Stefan down, not now. "You're still the same old Saint Stefan, only now—you can't seem to shut up."

Stefan growled in rage and lunged at Damon with vampire-speed. Damon was ready and waiting for him, side-stepping just in time and slammed Stefan face-first onto the reading table, scattering the leather journals, and quickly drove a handy No. 2 pencil into his kidney.

Stefan growled in pain through gnashed fangs and Damon quickly stepped back out of range as the brunette thrashed violently back, yanking the pencil out. He quickly snatched up the stake from the bed and kept it from view as Stefan faced him, anger twisting his face as his chest heaved.

"Still weak." Damon taunted cruelly, tense and ready.

Stefan surprised him by giving a low, dark chuckle, dropping the bloody pencil. He didn't rise to the bait. He knew what his brother was up to. Instead, he gave him a sneer as he sauntered passed the vampire and to his waiting wardrobe, throwing Damon for a loop. Stefan stripped from his soiled boxers without reserve and slipped on a clean outfit, careful of the collar around his neck, grimacing as it brushed his unhealed, gummy wound.

Stefan turned back to his brother. "I guess I'm just go after her by myself."

"And how do you think you're gonna find her, huh?"

"Like you said, that's probably exactly what she wants." He had a few suspicions and ideas concerning a certain blond man that would be just as satisfying to _work_ the answers out of as it would be to recieve them. Work could be fun, too.

Damon shook his head. "You're gonna get yourself killed."

Stefan looked at him with a wicked grin. "That's half the fun. If it was easy it'd be boring. I will say this before I go," he conceded, "You were right. She was Top 10 Best Fucks. Do you think she'd go for it? One last screw in the hay. Might as well have a little fun before I rip her heart out—assuming she even has one." He laughed, "I guess I'll find out soon enough." He waved at his brother in farewell, didn't even spare one last look at his dead boyfriend, and headed for the open balcony doors.

If Damon let him just speed off into the approaching dawn, he'd never see his brother alive again. That was the last thing the raven-haired vampire could do. He had no other choice but to make his move now. Damon tightened his grip on the stake and lunged at his brother's back. But just like Damon before, Stefan was ready and waiting for him to blur right into his trap.

Stefan moved just enough so the stake grazed by his ribs, trapped Damon's thrusting arm, disarmed him, turned the stake and drove it back into his brother's gut; the same place that Stefan had pulled it from himself earlier, just for the poeticise of it. Damon was forced back by the power behind it.

"Hn." Damon grunted in pain, grasping at his brother for stabilization much like the brunette had done when Damon had so viciously tore out his liver just a short two week stint earlier.

It wasn't a killing blow but it could be easily diverted into one. Stefan stared straight into his blue pain-filled eyes, his arm in what could be perceived as a comforting embrace around his shoulders, holding his brother close—and twisted the stake cruelly.

"Stefan," Damon's knees buckled and Stefan followed his down, guiding him down almost gently as he kept his hold on the stake.

Stefan leaned in close, "I'm not weak," he growled heatedly in his pale face.

"I know," Damon strained, not breaking eye contact. His shaky hands grasped his brother's wrist holding the stake and forearm. "You're one of the strongest people I know."

Stefan's green eyes flickered out of nowhere as Damon's forgotten shadow box rattled, sending a vibration through to Alaric's. "Shut up," he snapped and pressed on the stake handle, angling the point upward. Damon groaned as it scraped the bottom of his ribcage. "I could kill you right now."

"I've heard you say that before; what's stopping you now?" he wondered through gritted teeth.

He was right. Stefan had held Damon in a similar position on that night, though he had driven the stake a little closer to home, just shy of his brother's heart. It was on his birthday, Damon had killed Lexi, his best-friend and closest companion who had been with him just a couple months shy of his entire vampire life. Stefan had been so hurt, raw, despaired, angered at his brother's actions that he had driven a stake into the other vampire, but hadn't killed him. Despite such cruelty as the one just done unto him, Damon was the most important and loved person in his life. And despite the misery, Stefan could not see a life ahead of him without his brother alive, out there somewhere. But tonight was a different occasion entirely; he didn't have all the emotional attachment to the brother beneath him, just the history, like reading from a textbook.

Stefan cocked his head and his eyes flickered up in thought. "You're right," he looked back to his brother, "Nothing's stopping me this time." And he slowly started to push the butt of the stake, ignoring the raucous rattling in his head.

Damon grinned sharply up at him, blood lining his flat square teeth, his blue eyes wide highlighted with manic and pain. "Look at you," he mocked. His hands tightened on the brunette, but it almost felt more like guidance and nothing like resistance; like he was daring the Ripper forward. "Hngh." He gave an aborted cough, blood speckled his lips and chin from his punctured lung as the stake scraped along. "I honestly didn't think you had it in you, little brother." He whispered sadly. "But look at you. You don't need anybody, not me, not Ric-- Augh!" he choked off with a cry, his body shuddering as he finally felt the tip of the stake scrap against the bottom of his undead heart with white-hot pain—and he could feel it, his death, his true death, so close—as Stefan paused just so. "I think you might actually be able to kill her, Stef, if you can do this." He swallowed convulsively, fighting against the cough that would impale him.

Stefan gazed into his brother's bright eyes; this would be the most monumental kill in his life, even more than their father which had been an utter accident. "I'll definitely fair better than you, brother." His bicep went taut as he prepared to push the stake the rest of the way home and would end his big brother’s existence in this world for good when he had spent the last century and a half fighting to keep him; but a couple weeks of care could not make up for the same amounted time of pain and suffering—when there was a low moan from across the other side of the room.

Stefan stilled, and Damon blinked rapidly up at him, his bloody chin cocking slightly and dark brow twitching. A beautiful beating music filled the blank spaces in Stefan's ears and a lump caught in his throat as he slowly looked up.

Alaric carefully sat up and rubbed at the ache in his neck, confusion on his face as woke up on the floor, surrounded by scattered journals and a... bloody pencil by his bare foot.

Damon watched through blurry eyes as his brother's humanity switch was thrown back on like a bucket of ice-water had been dumped on him, cold and shocking as all that fear and grief flooded through him. Damon could see it in the way his chin trembled, the flicker of his lashes, the shudder that reverberated from his brother and in through him. The stake was utterly still.

Stefan's focus was utterly on Alaric that Damon didn't even think that he remembered that he was under him with a stake mm from killing him. He was wary of speaking up in case he surprised his brother into finishing the job.

There were several concussive implosions through Stefan's subconscious as he watched the rise and fall of the teacher's chest, listened to his heartbeat like it was the music of angels. Could he really dare to believe it was true?

"Ric?" Stefan whispered, his voice thick in his throat with emotion. Tears of relief and angst slowly dribble down his cheeks, and off his chin to patter onto Damon's face beneath. "You're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm f--" Alaric looked over, mind blank for an instant before his eyes widened in shock as what he was seeing. "Stefan?!" he exclaimed in horror, quickly climbing to his feet, hands held out in caution, his eyes darting between Stefan’s stricken expression and Damon's unmoving head in quiet terror. "What are you doing?" The vampire didn't even seem to be aware of the dangerous position he was in.

Stefan just shook his head in confusion, throwing his tears around as he watched the man like he was the Second Coming. "I didn't mean--" he chocked on the sob in his throat, his body trembling.

"Stefan—Damon!" he said frantically through his teeth, waving, tense.

Damon's fingers flexed against his brother's tendon taut wrist, a gentle pressure that was liking to a caress like back at the Gilbert house two nights before and Stefan's attention was finally drawn down to him, his green eyes widening frighteningly.

"Didn't think I was that forgettable," Damon managed to quip weakly, giving his scared brother a small smile just the same.

"Damon!" he cried in distress.

"Slow," Damon whimpered, his trembling hands locked with Stefan's steady one as he carefully pulled the stake out, even as the rest of his body shook against his prone brother.

"Careful," Alaric cautioned, approaching as a sob tore through Stefan this time. But the stake came free and he took it from the shocked vampire, throwing it away.

That hacking fit that Damon had somehow managed to hold back, took him as his body naturally tried to dispel the liquid in his punctured lung even as his body healed itself.

Just like Stefan pressing his hands ineffectually against the stitching wound, in a frantic manner, blood gushed between his fingers, coating fresh wet blood over his own dried and flakey. _What have I done? What have I done?!_

"You need blood." Alaric said. "I'll get--"

"No, no." Damon finally managed, licking his bloodied lips as he got his body back under control. "I'm good." Alaric was dubious. "I'm fine." He used Stefan to pulled himself upward with a faint grunt and leaned heavily back against the side of the computer desk. He would heal fine, but Stefan was a different story. "Stefan?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Stefan mumbled repeatedly, his eyes glued to his brother's saturated shirt, his bloody stomach, his hands coated in Damon’s blood still pressed to an already healed wound. Killing Alaric might just have been a dream, but staking his brother with the true intention of murder was not.

"Hey." Damon said sharply. "Listen to me!" he grabbed the nape of Stefan’s neck a bit rough, jolting him to attention, forcing the teen vampire from the blood and to his steady, piercing gaze, yanking him close. "Listen to me. This was not--"

"I almost killed you." Stefan interrupted, his face all crumpled and tear-soaked. "If Alaric didn't come back when he did, I would have killed you!" he sobbed. "I would have done it. I was going to do it, Damon! It was me. I did this." It hurt, but the truth did that most of the time. "I was going to kill you because you were boring and annoying me. And I killed Ric over and over again. I couldn't stop myself, didn't even try stop myself. It felt too good. To feed, to kill. Damon--!" he broke, blinded by his tears.

"Hey!" Damon gave him a shake. "This was not you, do you understand me? Katherine forced this into your head. She made you turn off your humanity. This was _her_ and I'm gonna make her pay!" and he pulled Stefan fiercely to his chest.

Stefan collapsed against him, clung to his big brother. "Damon!" he bawled, quaking with the strength of his cries, face buried in his neck.

"I'm not going anywhere," Damon promised viciously.

Alaric sunk uselessly to the floor, helpless to lend comfort, to Stefan, to either. Confused to what happened, how they got to this moment. What he had concluded was that he had died, killed in his sleep, all he could remember was the impression of some powerful, invisible force (Katherine associated)—then nothing. Stefan must have believed that he was truly dead and switched off his humanity. Alaric swallowed against the lump in his throat as Damon met his gaze briefly before turning his face into Stefan's mused hair. Damon was right, Katherine needed to pay.

Stefan concentrated on Damon's hold and Alaric's heartbeat; and the combination helped him regain a calm(er) center. But even after, the brunette couldn't help but briefly take a minute advantage and extend the embrace; it seemed that they both needed this.

Stefan literally could not remember the last time he hugged his big brother. Not in the last 145 years since they turned. It must have been when Damon defected from the Confederate Army and came back home, and then it was the both of them vying for Katherine's affection. The Council had been on vampire alert, and in a bid to try and protect Katherine, Stefan had inadvertently created the rift between he and Damon and exposed Katherine in the process, thus creating the chasm of separation and misery between that lasted the last 145 years.

He remembered that bubble that Damon had created around him for those two days when he had been so close to the edge and lent his daylight ring as decoration for Salvatore's fishbowl. Like then and like now, Stefan knew his _big brother_ was here to stay.

And just like before, Stefan knew he couldn't stay in the bubble forever; they eventually all pop. He was still a little surprised that it was him that pulled away first. They watched each other silently for a moment; Stefan tear-stained and Damon slightly puffy-eyed, they gave each other slight nods of silent reassurance and pulled each other to their feet.

Alaric suddenly seemed intent on cleaning up the scattered journals and dropping the pencil in the wastebasket.

"You good, little brother?" Damon carefully pulled his collar open, inspecting the gruesome wound around his neck. He hissed in sympathy as Stefan grimaced; _still_ not healed but at least it didn't appear to be any worse. "You need to hunt. And soon,"

"So do you," Stefan said, his gaze flickering involuntarily to Damon's ripped and bloodied shirt.

"Unlike you, I get my meals at convenience. You have to work for yours; that's what happens when you're on a 'special health kick'." He teased and he got a twitch of a smile in return. He squeezed the vampire's shoulder, "We're going to take care of this, Stefan." Stefan could only nod silently. "Don't be skimpy, Stefan. You take out Bambie _and_ his dad." He clapped Alaric on the back on his way out.

Finally, it was just the couple left in what Stefan could only describe as a crime scene. He wanted badly to go to the man, touch him, _feel_ him, prove to himself that the man was alright. But he was wary.

Alaric didn't seem to have such reservations, though and closed the distance between them in a couple quick strides. Stefan was still as the dirty-blond carefully cradled his face, his blue eyes searching, as his thumbs brushed away the tear-stains. Stefan reached up and gently grasped the man's wrists, feeling his pulse through blood-stained fingers; his eyes slipped closed and a sigh left his lips.

Alaric pressed his lips to Stefan's forehead for a long moment, eyes slipping closed, and breathed; before he separated and pressed them against Stefan's. The vampire gently moved against him. It wasn't deep and open-mouthed and hungry; but that didn't mean the passion and care wasn't present.

"Are you okay?" Stefan whispered.

Alaric shook his head in disbelief. "I should be asking you that, Stefan."

Stefan pulled him into a hug, careful of his neck as he rested his cheek against Ric's ear. "I thought I killed you, Ric." He croaked through the sudden tightness in this throat.

"You didn't. You didn't." Alaric tightened his hold.

"It felt like I did, really this time. It hurt so much worse than the first time when I found you after Damon killed you. The _silence_ was too much. And I couldn't do it. I'm sorry!"

"Hey. Hey." Ric hushed him, stroking the back of his head. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. There's nothing she or you can do to make me do otherwise. Okay?"

"Okay," he took a deep shuddering breath. Stefan gently massaged the nape of his neck and Alaric gave a little groan of gratification; he could still feel an ache from the stark snap. "Okay." Stefan's eyes found his alarm clock; it was a couple minutes passed 7 a.m. He sighed and like with Damon, found the strength to pull away. "You need to get ready for class."

"What about you?" Alaric asked.

"I need to hunt, burn my clothes, and shower. And then I'll go to school," Stefan decided.

"Are you sure? It's been a pretty severe morning, no one would blame you."

"Staying here, in this room right now..." Stefan shook his head. "I don't think that's the best idea."

"Alright."

"So shower, change, and I'll see you at school, okay?"

"Yeah." Alaric pressed a kiss to his lips and they parted.

Stefan went to the balcony doors as Alaric grabbed his duffle and disappeared into the en suite, but the vampire didn't go and jump down onto the drive, but shut and locked them instead. He left via the front door this time. He didn't find Bambi and his father, that would be too lucky, but he was feeding on 'Thumper' when a fox tried to sneak passed him. Stefan had never actually drank fox before and didn't think anything of the same size would cross his path this morning and gave chase at vamp-speed. The creature was a slippery one but he managed to get it.

He avoided certain mammals for a reason; like raccoons because of their diet of human trash, skunks for the obvious reason. Foxes emitted a skunk-adjacent odour, but its blood was just as edible as a rabbit or deer, but held a different tang to it for its carnivorous appetites—he didn't typically feed on meat eaters.

When he got back to the Boarding House, Alaric's Chevrolet Tahoe was gone from the drive. When he got back to his bedroom Stefan stripped the bed entirely, stuffing the sheets, comforter, pillows _and_ cases into a garbage bag. His discarded boxers joined them along with the entire outfit he had donned when trying to kill Damon. Simply putting them in the bin outside was not going to do, no, he had every intention of putting these to the fire.

He showered and dressed, making sure to put on a dark, collared shirt. The blood helped take the lethargy from his limbs, put the ache in his abdomen from the previous stake wound to rest, and helped the burned and blistered wound that rung his neck a little. It was still present, still looked pretty bad but didn't look as _raw,_ which was good.

Stefan found Damon in the kitchen, showered and dressed, drinking straight from the bag, one already lain drained on the kitchen island, the other halfway through; and not looking like his baby brother almost killed him an two hours ago.

Damon looked him up and down, appraising him as Stefan poured himself a cup of coffee. "It help?"

"A bit." Stefan leaned back against the counter as he drank.

"You sure you want to go to school?" Damon finished the bag off, licking the blood from he corners of his mouth.

"I'm sure."

Damon threw away the empty blood bags in the peddle can and dusted his hands. "You can ride with me," Damon told him. "I have business in town."

_tbc..._

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a whole other scene written for the manipulated dream with the pendant, spent two days writing the thing but didn't like how it fit with the story and so I rewrote it with what you read above, but not before starting then scrapping two other versions. I might steal elements from it for other parts in the story, so I'll post it later as a complete deleted scene so there's no spoilers.


	8. CHAPTER 7

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

Stefan didn't fight it when Bonnie and Elena cornered him at school.

He was going to tell them what happened this morning, he really was, but either Alaric or Damon had beaten him to the punch; the former when he arrived at school before Stefan (who had missed first period), or Damon had texted Elena when he was out hunting.

He was heading to second period when they flocked him. The bell rang and the halls emptied, and the three convened in the bathroom. Stefan was only mildly less troubled that it was the men's room and not the ladies.

"Are you okay?" Elena said straight off. "I got a text from Damon before I was even up for school. All it said was that something happened and you might not come to school. Stefan?"

"Did Katherine try again?" Bonnie asked.

Stefan sighed. "You could say that," he agreed. He reached up and undid his shirt collar, then the button below it and pulled it open, revealing the top of his chest and front of his neck.

They gasped and exclaimed in horror. He caught a glimpse of it in the smudged mirror above the sink and the open weepiness of it had nearly completely abated, just leaving some severe looking burn blisters, at least around his neck. The wide, circular wound where the pendant lay still wasn't quite at that stage yet.

"Oh, my god, Stefan!" Elena started to reach out but then quickly withdrew her hand.

"When did this happen?" Bonnie asked, her expression tight.

"Little after 5," he buttoned his shirt back up.

"And it's not healed yet? You fed?" Elena accused.

Stefan nodded. "And it _has_ healed."

"It was worse?!" Elena cried in disbelief.

"Damon said that the pendant _melted_ into my skin, he had to pick it out before I could get out of the dream she put me in." He explained.

"How did this happen, Bonnie?" Elena looked to her friend in worry. "Was the spell wrong or--?"

"No. No way." Bonnie denied. "If Grams thought for one second the spell wound backfire like this, she never would have let me give it to you, Stefan."

"I know, Bonnie." He assured, squeezing her bicep. "It worked great the first night. Went to bed after you left and I woke up after 3 in the afternoon." He grinned. "It was the best sleep I've had in the last 150 years."

"There's no way that Katherine is powerful enough to break through that spell, even if she is over 500 years old." Bonnie shook her head. "No. The only thing that could have caused the pendant to react like that and let her Power through—is a witch."

"A witch?" Elena paled.

Stefan groaned. "That makes sense. It should have been obvious. Katherine always has a witch in her service, she'd be extraordinarily vulnerable without one." He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. Of course Katherine wasn't working alone; no, just like back in 1864, she had minions under her influence: Emily, Pearl and Anna, the rest of the vampires that had been trapped in the tomb. "Damon is not going to be very happy when he hears this, if he hasn't already figured it out by the time school's over. He's _really_ gonna wanna kill something. I can't say I blame him."

"Stefan?" Elena touched his arm. "Are you okay?"

_No. No, I'm not._ "I'll be fine." He looked up. "We should get to class. We'll meet up at the Boarding House after school? I'll tell Ric," the two girls nodded and reluctantly left. Stefan gave himself a minute to gather himself before he headed to class too. He was glad he made the decision to go to school instead of staying home, even if Bonnie and Elena hovered and even if he was forced to keep a profession distance from Ric; the Boarding House was just too oppressing to hang around in alone. It wasn't like it was safer than the school, in fact, Stefan was pretty sure his bedroom and maybe his bed specifically could be classified as the most dangerous place in the world at the moment.

...

After school, Stefan left Bonnie and Elena to carpool in the witch's Prius, and headed back with vampire speed, cutting a path through the woods and used the opportunity to snag a couple rabbits who didn't even see him coming. He texted Damon at lunch (to make sure that his brother came home when he was done with whatever his 'business in town' was instead of going to the Grill for a drink, got no reply back and didn't see his brother's Camaro in the driveway but that suited the teen just fine.

Stefan went through the house, out the back through the kitchen door and lit the fire in the pit in the backyard before heading back in and up to his room. He paused outside his closed door, this morning playing back in his mind in harsh snapshots, making his throat tighten. He forced himself passed it; it was done, he could never take it back, undo it—but he could get rid of the physical manifestations of the event.

He threw open his door and stepped into his room. It felt stuffy and closed in, just from the handful of hours the door had been closed. His gaze skittered over the dark staining on the floor by his computer desk—Damon's blood—as he crossed the room. He didn't open the balcony doors and instead opened the thick drapes over his window, and opening it. The sheer curtain beneath fluttering in the gentle breeze.

He turned his attention to Salvatore, feeling like a bad owner because he forgot to feed the comet goldfish this morning with all that had happened so he compensated with adding a little extra food flakes. Salvatore exuberantly swished around the bowl, managing to eat all of them before they could settle on the pebbled bottom.

Stefan grabbed the garbage bag he'd filled that morning, and found the stake and pencil and took them with him into the backyard. He said he was going to burn all this to oblivion and he meant it. The flames hungrily burned at the blood-stained clothing and wood. He even sprayed some lighter fluid onto it to make sure the flames incinerated it all. He left it to burn and went back inside, grabbing cleaning supplies from the hall closet and went back up to his bedroom.

The bloodstain by the desk wasn't the only thing he needed to scrub. Stefan had left his own on the floor by his side of the bed from the stake; and the other, by the reading table when Damon had stabbed him in the kidney with the No. 2 pencil. By the time he was finished, his room smelled like bleach but the balcony doors remained shut and locked.

He stared at his naked mattress for a moment, wishing he could chuck it into the fire, too, but simply made it up with clean linen from the hall closet. He took Salvatore to the library. He put the cleaning supplies away downstairs and stirring the fire to make sure everything was gone, put the flames out with sand from the bucket next to the pit.

Stefan had just finished loading the coffee pot when he heard a car come up the drive. Surprisingly, it wasn't Bonnie's Prius but Ric's Tahoe; he would have thought the girls would get there first, they were already pulling from the school parking lot when he disappeared into the woods.

"Stefan?" Alaric let himself in.

"Kitchen!" the vampire called, grabbing out a second mug from the cupboard.

"Hey," Alaric warm hands found his hips and pressed a kiss to the side of Stefan's neck under his jaw tenderly, the brush of his stubble against the sensitive skin making the teen shiver pleasantly in response. "I didn't see Damon's car. I'm the first one here?"

"I was surprised, too." They watched the pot slowly fill with the drip.

"How's your neck?" he whispered, carefully pulling the open collar back and peeking down.

"Better." Stefan told him, holding still under his gentle touch. "I fed on the way home."

"Good." Alaric pressed another kiss behind his ear as he carefully settled the collar back. He stepped back and let the vampire pour the coffee. Stefan turned and handed Alaric his mug, leaning back against the counter as he drank his coffee. Alaric mirrored him against the kitchen island.

The quiet between them was soft, there was no pressure to fill it as they simply enjoyed each other's company without an ounce of drama and bloodshed, drinking coffee and gazing at each other. There probably wouldn't be another moment like it shortly.

Stefan's head cocked lightly as he heard the car in the drive, the quiet hum of the eco-friendly engine. "Bonnie and Elena are here."

The teenagers let themselves in a couple moments later. "Hello?" Elena called.

"Kitchen!" Stefan called just like with Alaric. He listened to their footsteps, starting and stopping, backtracking, the witch cussing under her breath.

Alaric raised a curious brow at the amused look on the vampire's face. "What?" Stefan could only shake his head.

"God, this place is huge." Bonnie complained as the pair finally arrived. "I've only been in the parlor before and it's just down the hall from the front door. I think we got lost—twice—trying to find you guys." She slumped exhausted on a breakfast stool.

Stefan met Alaric's eyes briefly, his lips pursed to stop himself from laughing and Ric shook his head with a smile in return.

"We stopped to get takeout, figured it was going to be another gruelling night," Elena put the pizza box on the kitchen island. "Damon still isn't here?"

"Nope. Said he had business in town this morning." Stefan said.

"What does that mean?" Bonnie asked.

Stefan shrugged. "I sent him a text earlier. He'll get here whenever he's finished." He went to the cupboard and took out 4 plates. "We can eat while we wait."

They each took a share. "Damon won't want any?" Elena wondered.

Stefan chuckled. "Have you ever seen Damon _eat_ human food? He's been on a liquid diet for as long as I can remember; blood and bourbon." They all claimed a stool and ate the slices. Somehow, their idle chitchat as they waited consisted of the weird Matt-Caroline-Tyler thing that was going on.

Stefan's brows pinched as he heard Damon's Comaro Convertible—followed by a second car that he didn't recognize. "Damon's here." He said. "And he has company."

"Who?" Alaric questioned.

Stefan concentrated for a moment. "Human. But they're not coming inside."

"This is bound to be interesting," Bonnie muttered. Interesting in the company of Damon usually meant trouble in her opinion.

"Daddy's home!" Damon called, heading for the parlor, a paper-clipped document pinned under his arm as he headed straight for his trusty liquor cabinet. "Lawyers never change," he threw back his two fingers and poured another.

"What lawyers?" Stefan questioned as the group arrived from the kitchen.

Damon's nose wrinkled briefly at the prevailing scent of bleach when he saw him, but said nothing. "All of them,"

"Why were you talking to a lawyer?" Bonnie crossed her arms.

Damon turned and regarded her with a smirk at the corner of his lips that he knew annoyed her. "Should have done it as soon as we found out Katherine was in town." He held up the document from under his arm. "The deed to the Salvatore Boarding House. Ownership became null when I killed Uncle Zach; of course it transferred to Stefan and I, but that's the whole point. We're not technically alive, so that annoying but effective little magic barrier that requires an invitation does not exist. Any old vampire can just waltz in here and watch Stefan like he's Sleeping Beauty. That ends today," he held out a pen toward Elena.

Elena looked at him with an open mouth as realization dawned. "You want to give me your house?"

"Technically." He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you'll own it. That's the whole point. Vampires will have to have an invitation to enter, that means Katherine can't get in unless you invite her in. Get it?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "But why me?"

"I've done the math. You're the only one that Katherine is less likely to kill. Bonnie's a witch _and_ a Bennett, she's automatically branded an enemy. And every time Teacher get's killed, it'll void the contract, even if he came back with the ring. That leaves you, the doppelganger." He wagged the pen under her nose until she snatched it in annoyance. "Good. Stefan and I will go outside, you sign the deed in all the right places, the sleaze in out in the car will notarise it, make it all legal, and the Boarding House is under your ownership. Stefan and I won't be able to step foot inside until you invite us."

"This is was your 'business in town'?" Stefan asked as the pair stepped outside, the 3 humans lingering in the entry hall through the open front door.

"Something like that," he said vaguely. "Paul!" Damon shouted, and the notary public started in his vehicle before he climbed out, carrying a briefcase, and approached. "Do your thing," he waved him in, leaning back against the brick pillar on the porch.

The two vampires waited as Elena signed and initialled in all the marked places, Paul went over it, gave it the official stamp, and packed the document in his suitcase. When he stepped back outside Damon compelled the man to burry it and forget it and sent him on his way.

"Did it work?" Elena asked, eyeing the doorway from the inside, resisting the urge to try and physically feel the magical barrier. "Is it already there?"

"Let see," Damon flashed his brother a devious look as he approached the doorway. He locked onto her brown eyes and carefully reached out to put his hand through the open front entrance—and suddenly shouted, jerking back and curling in on himself.

Elena gave a shriek, jerking back into Alaric's own startled chest. "Damon!" and she instantly dove forward to see if he was okay. Her hands touched his back as he curled in himself, shaking. "Damon?"

"Ahhahaha!" Damon couldn't hold back the laughter. Her reaction had been priceless! "I can't believe you fell for that; the look on you face--!" he starting laughing again.

"You jerk!" she shouted, hitting him ineffectually with her fists at his doubled over form. "I thought you got hurt!"

He slowly straightened and wiped the laughter tears from his eyes. "I couldn't resist." He didn't apologize. "It's nice to know you care, Elena."

She crossed her arms and glared. "I'm starting to wonder why, exactly."

"You know..." Bonnie said slowly, calculatingly, and it had Damon narrowing his eyes. "You really shouldn't mess with the person that holds all the power."

Elena's plucked brows flickered as realization of what her friend was getting at, registered. "Maybe I don't want to invite you after all,"

A slow smile spread across her lips that was eerily reminiscent of what he had seen cross a certain vixen’s plump lips; enough so that he shot a sidelong glance at Stefan. But to the vampire's relief, there was amusement and a lightness dancing in those usually brooding forest green eyes.

"You wouldn't dare," he challenged.

She met his stare—turned her chin at him and said: "Stefan," with pomp, "You may come in."

Stefan chuckled. "Thank you, Elena. I think she likes me more," he stage whispered to Damon, clapping him on the back as he sidled passed and through the doorway without meeting the resistance of the magical invitation barrier. He stood with Alaric and Bonnie to watch the entertaining showdown.

Elena reached out and grasped the edge of the door, teasingly.

"Elena," Damon warned.

"I don't know..." she swung it back and forth lightly. "Maybe a night in the dog house with help you find your manners." Her plucked brow raised, "What do you think?"

"You clearly can't take a joke," he said sarcastically. She started to close the door. He rolled his eyes. "Okay. I'm sorry... that you don't have a sense of humour." She pushed it further closed. "That being said... I probably won't do it again. Not really," the door closed another couple inches. "I am who I am, deal with it. Now invite me into my own house, before I _lash out_." He finished in irritation.

"That's the best you're gonna get, Elena." Stefan smiled. "It's also one of the better I've heard."

Elena pulled open the door again. "Come in,"

"If you're going to be so polite about it," Damon smirked and stepped over the threshold without issue. He leaned in close as he passed her, "Thank you."

Elena shut the door. "So that's it?"

"That's it," Stefan exhaled and loosened his shoulders.

"Better?" Damon questioned quietly.

"Yeah."

Damon walked passed, back to the parlor and his abandoned bourbon, the others following and claiming spots. This time Stefan sat on the couch closest to Damon's usual chair. Alaric beside him, Bonnie on the third spot, and Elena took the other chair.

"Now that that's taken care of," Damon announced. "Want to explain to me what the hell happened with that shitty little pendant you gave my baby brother?" he challenged Bonnie.

"The pendant was fine," she said. "Stefan told me what happened. The only reason it reacted that way was because _another_ witch was trying to break the spell. That was how Katherine was able to manipulate Stefan's dreams again."

"Shit," Damon cursed. "Another witch. Should have fucking known. That's just like Katherine."

"And the wound it left?" Stefan wondered.

"It's a magically inflicted wound, so it's going to take longer to heal. And because you're drinking animal blood and not human blood." Bonnie explained to Stefan.

"That could be why it took you so long to come back," Damon directed at Alaric.

Alaric rubbed his neck at the reminder. "I think you're right."

Stefan's expression tightened and his gaze dropped, fingers digging into the couch arm his arm rested on. His eyes flickered as all he could see was the empty stump of Alaric's neck. He inhaled sharply, pulled from it as Alaric squeezed his knee.

"What are you talking about?" Elena asked, eyes darting between the three of them.

Damon gave Stefan a silent look: _You didn't tell them, did you?_ Stefan's lips tightening was all the answer he needed. _Of course you didn't._ "Fine." He turned back to the others and the girls' confused look, which he easily ignored. "Katherine might not be able to get inside anymore, but that doesn't mean her magical little pet can't either. So, who does Katherine have in her back pocket?" his piercing blue gaze landed squarely on Bonnie.

"What?" she answered sarcastically, "It's not like we all have a bi-monthly witch get together or something."

"Why the hell not?"

"Witches are already targeted by vampires, I'm assuming a big gathering in one place is a big no-no if they want to survive—unless something big and scary is going town. Frankly, I'm pretty glad I haven't heard of some witch congregation. Besides, the only witches I know are Grams, and she would never help Katherine. And Emily, and she's dead."

"That hasn't stopped her before," Damon pointed out. "The whole... amulet/tomb/possessing you thing, if you've forgotten."

"How could I forget?" she glared.

" _And_ , it wouldn't be the first time sweet Emily was with Katherine," he added.

"Katherine saved Emily's life and she was in Katherine's debt." Stefan told her and reminded his brother firmly.

"Still," Damon said, holding a grudge.

"She made our rings, Damon. She got our bodies to safety. She saved our lives."

" _And,_ " Bonnie added for clarity. "Emily actually _likes_ Stefan, unlike you."

"Whatever." Damon said. "Katherine's got a new witch suckling her poisonous teat and whoever they are, they're going down with Katherine just as well."

"Do either of you have anything that belonged to Katherine?" the witch questioned the brothers.

"Do you think you can locate her?" Stefan looked across Alaric at her.

"I think that would just be a waste of magic and time," Bonnie confessed. "Katherine doesn't seem like the kind of person who would keep an incompetent witch with her. If she's clever, her witch will have her under a cloaking spell. I'd never be able to see her, and witches can mask their own magic. No," she shook her head. "Does that mean you don't have anything?"

Stefan glanced at Damon. "I have a picture..." he offered.

"Can I have it?" she perked up.

He shrugged. "Sure. I can get it right now," he stood and sped from the parlor, up the stairs before she could say anything further.

He only paused for an instant outside his closed bedroom door before he opened it and went in. The room still smelled strongly of bleach despite the open window and fresh breeze. He crossed the room to the dresser behind him computer desk. Stefan opened the small decorational box next to the open space on the shelf that he had cleared for Salvatore's bowl and took out the small key. He unlocked the top drawer and opened it.

Sitting right there on top, was a thin, hardcover, black leather bound book of poetry. He ran his gingers over it for a moment before he picked it up and opened it to the delicate paper-sleeved photo of Katherine. She had given it to him as a keepsake when he was still human and infatuated. She never gave one to Damon.

He sighed, snapping the book closed over her beautifully poised expression staring straight into him. _She can't get into your head anymore,_ he reminded himself. He closed the drawer, not bothering to lock it and put the key back. He closed the bedroom door behind him and went back downstairs to the parlor at a more human pace.

"Here," he held the book out to the witch.

She leaned forward and took it. "Thanks," she could see the photo edge sticking from the pages and tucked the book between her thigh and the couch arm. "I’ll do the spell when I get home tonight." She'd never actually seen Katherine herself; she knew what doppelganger meant but was still curious to lay eyes on an actual photo of the vampire.

"What's this spell exactly?" Elena wondered, managing to tear her eyes away from the corner of the black book that she could see peeking out.

"In short," Bonnie said, "The ashes from the picture can stun her for a few minutes. So when we do find Katherine, it could be a weapon that we have that she doesn't know about—and help us finally kill her."

"Getting close enough to be able to use it is risky," Alaric pointed out, "But totally worth it if it can stun her long enough to stake her. It's something,"

Bonnie looked over to where Stefan continued to stand, her brown gaze flickering down to his open collar. "I could also make another pendant if you--" Damon snorted but said nothing as the witch flashed a glare his way.

"I..." Stefan paused and cleared his throat. "I would appreciate that, Bonnie." He admitted, consciously having to stop himself from reaching to his neck and fidgeting. "Thank you,"

"I'll give it to you at school tomorrow,"

The girls left shortly after, Bonnie with the book of poems and picture of Katherine. He was glad to be rid of it and even happier when he got the second pendant from the witch tomorrow; he didn't think he was going to sleep well tonight (least of all in his room) even though Katherine could no longer enter the Boarding House—he was too paranoid. And then there was--

"Christ, Stefan." Damon muttered and Stefan blinked, looking over at him in confusion. "You gonna asked him to prom already or what?" he said sarcastically.

"What?" Stefan was even more confused. He glanced over to Alaric on the couch, who was giving him a concerned look. "What are you talking about?"

Alaric stood. "You've been standing there staring into space for the past 10 minutes, chewing on your nails."

"I wasn't," he conspicuously wiped his fingers on the hem of his shirt. Stefan clasped his hands behind his back, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Stefan?" Alaric stepped around the coffee table.

Stefan cleared his throat. "I need to talk to you," he told Alaric seriously

"Alright." The teacher followed the vampire as he left the parlor, but instead of heading to Stefan's bedroom like he expected, he lead Alaric to the library instead.

"Vervain." Stefan blurted.

"What about it?" Alaric asked in confusion.

"I know you wear it, but that's not enough anymore."

"Stefan," Alaric tried to approach but Stefan seemed determined to keep distance between them. "What are you talking about."

"You need to start drinking it now." Stefan told him, determined. "If you don't have enough, I can supply you; we're still growing it in the basement. Just a few drops in your morning coffee everyday. Okay? It's just like medicine." _Because I am the disease._

" _Stefan,_ " Alaric managed to intercept his passing, grasping his upper arms and stilling the anxious vampire. "That's completely unnecessary. I'm fine. I trust you."

"Well, I don't trust me! Okay?" he cried out desperately. "It means a lot for you to say that, even more that you actually _believe_... but I need tyou o do this for me, okay?" he put his hands flat on the man's chest, feeling his heartbeat that lay beneath, and clenched fistfuls of his shirt's material. "Please, Ric." He pleaded.

Alaric looked at him gently, hands brushing up the teens arms and cupped his face. "I know you're scared--"

Stefan scoff harshly, twisting out of his gentle hold. "You keep a naked sprig in you pants pocket, Ric. That's not strategic **or** convenient. Yes, that would stop me from compelling you, but that would do nothing to stop me from tearing into your throat and feeding from you so hard that I Rip your head off!" He paced away, putting space between them once more. He stopped, his back turned, back straight and body taut. "Ready?" he question, his voice remote.

"Stefan, what are you doing?" Alaric felt ill at the tone.

Stefan didn't want to, but if it kept Alaric safe, it didn't matter. "Showing you."

Without warning Stefan turned and flitted at the unprepared man, passed him, knocking his shoulder so he spun and tumbled. Not hard enough to hurt, just move. Then Stefan came back the other way, knocking his shoulder, tripping up his feet. Confusing and up-ending his balance. Amongst the chaos, Stefan stuck his hand in Alaric's right front pant pocket where he knew the man kept his vervain. He hissed as it instantly burned his skin, fighting the instinct to drop it and pull away. He stabilized the disoriented man, holding out his open palm, his flesh sizzling like water on a hot pan.

"Stefan!" Alaric's eyes widened as his gaze focused on it and he instantly tried to slap it out of his palm, but Stefan clenched it in his hand instead, tucking his hand back behind the small of his back. "What are you doing?! You're hurting yourself!"

"Look at me." Stefan said.

"Stefan--" Alaric utterly ignored the command and continued to try reach behind him.

Stefan tightened his fist, gritting his teeth. The pain was similar to the reacting pendant. He might have been wrong with the comparison that the pendant was worse. It had been a while since he'd responded to vervain. There was no warm-up, its affects and his response was instant in kind.

He grasped the nape of Alaric's neck with his free hand, jerking the man. "Look at me!" Alaric caught his gaze in surprise and stilled, straightening as Stefan's pupils flexed. The vervain was painful, but it made him even more determined to do this. He dug into the bottom dregs of the well of his Power.

"You will ingest vervain. You will _kill_ any vampire who tries to feed from you, unless you give your express permission. But you will **never** under any circumstance allow me to feed from you," his voice cracked but he made himself reaffirm and continue, "Even if it is life and death conditions. If I try to feed from you... you will _kill me_ , Ric. Do you understand?"

He could never bring himself to compel Elena, even when it might have been better. But he was damned determined to do it to Alaric. He loved Elena but he _loved_ Ric; and yet he was manipulating the man. Even if it was for the man's safety, he felt like Katherine, like he was a true scumbag.

"Yes." Alaric responded, his voice low and deadpan. A single tear escaped his short lashes and trailed down his stubbled cheek.

"I'm sorry," Stefan whispered, pained both emotionally and physically. His fingertips brushed gently at the short hairs at the nape of his neck while gazing into his dull blue eyes. He felt like a dictator, not a boyfriend, or equal partner. He broke the connection and dropped his hand, severing contact.

Alaric sucked in a sharp breath and his expression transformed from muted to furious. "Why did you do that?!" he shoved Stefan in the chest. Stefan stumbled back more than he would have otherwise under normal circumstance, the vervain finally engulfing him now that he wasn’t laser focused on his task. "How could yo--"

"I'm trying to protect you, Alaric." Stefan straightened and brought his arm back around, his hand trembling as he slowly opened his hand. He bit back the whimper, his fangs half protruding in response to the pain. The result of the vervain burning into his skin made it feel like his hand was glued closed, his skin burned and melted over, peeling apart again.

Alaric was aptly distracted, his anger transforming into alarm as he carefully took Stefan's injured hand. "God, Stef." He carefully pulled the sprig from his palm, grimacing when strings of gore briefly attaching the two points before breaking it off. He dropped it on the mantle piece next to him and was forced to return to pick out some little leaves that had come off in Stefan's crushing grip. Stefan was still under the painful ministrations, not uttering a sound, not even breathing even as his chest heaved. "Stefan," Alaric whispered, still holding his injured hand, his other forcing the vampire to look at him. "You're trying to protect me from the one thing that I don't need protection from."

"You're wrong," Stefan whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'm the first thing you need protection from. I love you and I'm not going to let anything hurt you, Ric," Stefan said firmly. "Not even me. Especially not me." He tried to pull his hand away, but Alaric gripped his wrist, preventing him. Stefan could feel the tremble but he wasn't sure if it was himself or Alaric.

Alaric swallowed as those 3 words penetrated him. " _You_ are wrong, Stefan. Look at me." He put a hand on the vampire's cheek, drawing him back. "You are not weak. You have been around my blood before, a lot of it if I remember correctly. And not once have I seen fang. You have the control, Stefan. Don't let the likes of Katherine Pierce take that from you. Don't fall into the trap of her sick games." His thumb stroked his cheek. "Don't let her win." He whispered. "Don't let her break you—break us."

Stefan leaned into the touch he was sure he didn't deserve right now, his eyes closed. "You make it sound so simple." He mumbled.

Alaric rested their foreheads together. "It is," he hushed. "I love you, Stefan." Stefan's body shuddered at the words and he pressed against the man. "I wanted to tell you, you needed to know. I heard you."

"I wanted to tell you in the bathroom," Stefan confessed breathlessly.

"I was going to tell you in the kitchen." He admitted in return.

"I know."

"But you stopped me, why?"

"I was scared." It was easier to say like this.

Alaric only pulled his face back enough to meet his shiny green eyes. "It can be scary. But you're not alone in this, in any of it."

"I'm sorry."

Alaric pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Don't be sorry, Stefan. Be yourself."

He gave a humourless chuckle. "Easier said than done."

"Maybe," he agreed. "But I know you. You're strong."

Stefan just nodded. "Okay."

Alaric gazed at him for a moment, his thumb continuing his caress. "I'm angry that you compelled me, Stefan. You've trapped me into a corner. If something happens to you, how am I supposed to help you?" he despaired.

"I would rather **_die_** ," Stefan said vehemently, "Than drink human blood and turn into the Ripper of Monterey again. I promised myself that I would never manipulate you like that; I know what that's like, to be compelled. To not be able to fully trust your feelings or the person you love, to be suspicious. I'm sorry that I _had_ to do it. But I'm also not sorry that I did. I'm trying to protect the both of us.

"Katherine is going to do what she is going to do; she'll get what she wants, one way or another, she doesn't care what she leaves in her wake. It's just what she does and I will do what I have to for you not to be left in that after-effect."

"Don't you think if I could compel you to **_be safe_** , that I would?" Alaric returned. "I trust you, Stefan. I told you that from the beginning.

"It hurts to know that I won't be able to protect you with everything I have, even if you don't need it. If the occasion ever arouse, I would never put you into the position of your most hated and feared nightmare, no matter how much it pains me, I wouldn't be able to stand your resentment even if I thought there was a slim chance to get _you_ back. But to know that it's there... was a comfort."

What had he done? Stefan stared into the naked heartache in Ric's eyes and knew he had done nothing in his life to deserve this man's heart. It was Katherine who he deserved of; 2 evil hideous creatures bound by blood. But instead of pushing him away, Alaric held him closer, arms wrapped around him.

"I'm sorry." Stefan whispered, his face turned into the dirty-blond hair above his ear; Alaric's shirt rough in his sensitive palm as he clutched at the material on his back. "I love you."

"You say that... And it makes me think I'm one step closer to losing you." Alaric disclosed.

"I'm tired." Stefan breathed in the man, his eyes closed. He leaned a little more on the man; Alaric was the _strong_ one. "I'm scared. I'm afraid to go asleep; that despite her no longer being able to get into the house, that she can still find a way back into my head. Terrified of what she wants from me," _She doesn't want the Ripper,_ he didn't say. _Perhaps in every way that would be better than the truth._

Alaric started to rock him, their feet still on the floor and swayed them gently like a dance to silent music made just for them. His fingers stroking through the back of his styled hair in comfort, his own fear clenching in his guts.

Stefan laid his cheek on Alaric's shoulder, face turned into the man's neck, it fitted against the bridge of nose and forehead. The warmth spread to his skin, his closed eyelids against every pulse. He listened and felt and absorbed; settling down. _If I can just listen to this beautiful beat of life,_ **his** _beat of life for the rest of my undead one, then everything will have been worth it._

Stefan grew marginally heavy against him, then heavier still. Alaric tightened his arm around his back in response as the vampire's grip slacked some on his own. "Stef? Hey," he hushed gently. The only response was the soft breath against the hollow at the bottom of his throat. The teacher almost gave an incredulous laugh in realization but stopped himself; Stefan had fallen asleep against while they had stood here.

It warmed his chest almost painfully; he'd never known anyone to do that before. He wished he was physically strong enough to hold the teen all night, even if he could be mentally, but he wasn't. Even still, Alaric continued to hold the vampire because he knew that once Stefan woke up, he didn't plan to sleep even though he would promise to.

"I got," Alaric breathed.

"Mm!" Stefan grunted and jolted, awakened. He pulled back a little, looking at Alaric in mild confusion as the man had a fond expression in his eyes. "What happened?"

Alaric had trouble fighting the smile. "You fell asleep."

"What?"

"Yeah. You fell asleep—right against me."

Stefan looked mortified at the thought. How hard had he tried to convince the man that he wasn't a _child_ and then he fell asleep in his embrace? He thought it was a habit forever burned from him when Katherine turned him and stole Damon away.

"You used to fall asleep against me all the time, Stefan." Damon piped up from the doorway.

"Damon!" Stefan hissed at him frantically in warning.

Like a proper big brother, he ignored the begging and commenced embarrassing his baby brother to his 'older' boyfriend. "It was precious." He leaned against the railing of the raised half-floor reading nook next to the entranceway. "If the internet had been invented in the 1800's, there would be a whole Facebook pages dedicated. Even more popular than panda cubs."

The rabbit he fed on coming home from school migrated completely to Stefan's face, his cheeks rubicund. "Don't listen to him," he told Alaric. He glared at his brother but the effect was lessoned significantly with the blush. "This is revenge for those baby pictures, isn't it?" he accused.

"I'm not gonna _lie_ to the man, Stefan." Damon him jovially. "Hear that, Teacher? He wanted me to _lie_. Stefan," he pouted in disappointment at his brother.

Stefan growled at him. His lips pursed and he glanced back at Alaric, to find the man with twinkling blue-eyes, and enjoyment softening his face, making him appeared less weighted and younger.

"What about," Alaric looked across to Damon, much to Stefan's horror, "Hear me out—sleepy-Stefan _with_ panda cubs."

Damon pointed at him. "Yes!" he came down the steps to the main floor, boxing Stefan between the two of them. "Other than the joy of spreading the adorable, I bet people to pay--"

"I know you both are just messing with me by now," Stefan said stiffly, looking between them, "But there should be some rule against my brother and boyfriend ganging up and trying to embarrass me." He complained, "I also said I wanted you two to get along and become friends, but I didn't account for it backfiring on me like this."

"Careful what you wish for," Damon sang sweetly.

"I'm going to bed," Stefan said abruptly. He snuck a quick peck to Alaric's amused lips and backed away from the pair, wagging a suspicious/accusing/warning finger between them, even if he was secretly happy and they probably saw right through him, as he did them.

Once he was in the hall, he vamp-sped up stairs, but instead of going into his own room, he went to Zach's old room. Stefan had boxed up his clothes and other personal belongs to keep up with the appearance that Zach had simply moved instead of Damon killing him. Zach's room didn't have a balcony, which the vampire took comfort in.

In the en suit, Stefan carefully washed his hands. His palm was still healing from the extended exposure to clove of vervain. It looked like some whack plastic's guy had experimented with a chemical peel on his palm and fingers. He would be healed long before morning.

He stripped from his shirt and jeans and climbed under the blanket in his boxers; on his back and staring at the darkened ceiling. He kept his word—he went to bed. He was simply wide awake while doing it.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Despite only having slept on Alaric for a few minutes and not catching another wink through the night, Stefan felt better than he expected. Katherine was under his skin, but so were Damon and Alaric, whose influences were strong.

He and Elena claimed a picnic bench out front of the school for lunch, seated across from each other and it was then that their missing 3rd party finally made an appearance after 2 periods absent.

"Sorry. I got to bed pretty late and forget to set my alarm," Bonnie sat next to Stefan on the bench, her bag on the table in front of her.

Stefan instantly felt guilty. "You mean you were exhausted using magic all night because of me."

"Don't give yourself so much credit, Stef." She told him. "It was my own fault. Before I did the spell with the picture, I tried to do a locater spell with it."

He straightened. "And?"

"Totally bombed!" she thumped her head on her bag in defeat. "All I got were images of Elena in her living room with Jenna. It freaked me out so I called her just in case."

"Is that why you asked me about summer camp?" Elena wondered. "I thought it was weird."

Bonnie just shrugged at her. "I had suspicions going in that it wouldn't work, not with you being her doppelganger and just having a picture of her when I _know_ you and never met her before. But at least now I can give Damon the finger and tell him I tried," Elena chuckled.

"He's just frustrated and annoyed," Stefan said. "... And a jerk," he nodded at Elena.

"I still can't believe he did that," Elena huffed in annoyance, her arms crossed.

Bonnie snorted, and sat up. "I can."

Stefan laughed quietly, smiling between the pair. "You two should count yourselves lucky. I haven't seen Damon be... _playful_ , in a long time. If you guys had met him when we were human; _you_ would have been best-friends with him," he elbowed Bonnie lightly in the ribs and her expression made him smile wider. "And you totally would have fallen in love with him, Elena."

A look of despondency flashed through her brown gaze so fast that he only could register it subconsciously before she scoffed and covered it with a pasted smile. "Uh-huh."

"Anyway, I've got the solution to all your magical problems right here." Bonnie patted her bag and opened the flap. "Another dream pendant," she filled his waiting palm with a carbon copy of the first one; small-chained necklace with a yellow stone set into the pendant.

Stefan unbuttoned his collar and put necklace over his head. The chain was cool as it came to rest over the blistered shadow of its predecessor. They were just mild burn blisters now. He would just feed again on his way home. He buttoned his collar again and smoothed his hand down the row of buttons. "Thank you, Bonnie."

"And the ash." From view of the passer-by’s, she shifted her bag and showed the 2 small stoppered glass bottles nestled inside. "It didn't make much, just enough for two bullets. You should definitely take one, Stefan. And I think Elena should have the other."

"Uh," Elena started to shake her head. "Damon--"

"I think you're in more danger than Damon thinks." Bonnie looked to her friend. "Now that your signature is on the deed, you have a target on your back—if you didn't have one before."

Stefan took one jar. "I think you're right." He agreed with Bonnie. "Elena," he turned to the doppelganger, "If Katherine wants to get back into the Boarding House, you are the only thing stopping her." He put his hand over hers, "She will either turn you or simply kill you. Right now, you're a new toy to her, interesting, but the second she grows bored or angry," Elena swallowed, "She will snap you in half and throw you away. Please," he turned her hand over and placed the jar in her palm, closing her slender fingers around it, his own clasped over it. "Please, take it." His fingers brushed the inside of her wrist.

"Okay," Elena agreed quietly, her voice a little rough.

Stefan gave a small smile. "Good." He reclaimed his hand, took the second vial, leaned back and fit it into his jean pocket. He pulled his satchel into his lap from where he was resting at the foot of the bench and pulled out 2 small paper boxes onto the table.

"What's that?" Elena wondered.

"For you," he pushed one toward Bonnie. "And for you," he pushed the other to Elena.

The girls shared a looked before they carefully opened the boxes to reveal an individual, delicious looking and smelling cupcake. Bonnie's triple chocolate and Elena's strawberry shortcake.

"Did you bake these, Stefan?" Bonnie gaped incredulous at it. "That's amazing!"

Stefan chuckled. "Thank you, but no. I had time so I got them from the bakery on the way to school."

"You didn't get one for yourself?" Elena asked.

"I don't really like sweet things, I prefer savoury." Stefan told them. "You don't have to eat them now," he looked between them when neither moved.

"You don't have to tell me twice!" Bonnie told him. "I haven't eaten all day." She took hers from the box, peeled back the tissue cup, and took a large bite, groaning the instant it touched her tongue. "Oh, my god." she mumbled in ecstasy as she chewed and swallowed. Stefan chuckled as he watched her, a peak of mousse chocolate ending up at the tip of her nose that she had yet to notice.

Elena giggled. "Good, huh?"

"Breakfast of champions!" she agreed. "Thank you, Stefan." And she promptly took another bite. "You're not gonna eat yours?"

Elena arched her brows. "Oh, I'm eating it. You can't have it, Bon." She took it out of the box, peeled back the tissue wrap and took a bite half as big as Bonnie had, somehow managing not to get cream and jelly on her face. "Mmm!" She moaned. "That is _so_ good."

"What did I say?" Bonnie triumphed. "I think we have a real future together, Stefan." She teased, "I do the magic and you provide these babies."

"You got a little something..." he rubbed his nose in indication, green eyes sparking.

Bonnie gave him a smile, wiping the mousse from the tip of her nose and sucking it off her finger. "What do you say?"

"Magic Cakes." He stuck out his hand. "I provide the cake and you give it a little bit of that awesome magic."

She pumped his hand with a laugh, "Deal!" She managed to finish it before the bell rang, on a sugar high, blissfully licking chocolate from her lips to the vampire's gladness.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Stefan was left alone in the Salvatore Boarding House for the first time since he could last remember. It was awkward the first couple hours; the emptiness of the house acute to his senses, but he realized he wasn't utterly absent company. Salvatore couldn't talk, but he had the mesmerizing and calming effect of a lava lamp, especially in the library, positioned just right on the table with the fire blazing behind and nothing else; the flame's light reflecting and distorting through the water of the bowl and off his scales.

So he settled in the cozy comfort of the library, sprawled in the plush leather chair, back to the entryway and cracked open Moby Dick. Several chapters it, he left the book open, facedown on the arm of the chair and ventured to the kitchen and made himself a large bowl of buttered popcorn in the microwave. He went back to the library and resumed reading, alternating between turning pages and eating popcorn.

Stefan had read Moby Dick before, he was a vampire, he had the time. But there was always pleasure in reading a book a second even a third time, you can always catch nuances that you hadn't before.

He heard a creak on the step-down behind him, breaking from that tranquility that settling down and reading can put you in. He sped to his feet, knocking the half-eaten bowl of popcorn onto the floor and across the rug.

"Elena," he said in surprise, calming. "What are you doing here? I didn't hear you come in."

"Hi, Stefan." She susurrated, her voice sounding low and smoky, intimate.

Then the absence of her internal music registered. The realization immobilized him. "How did you get in here?" he demanded desperately.

"You invented me, Stefan." Katherine murmured. "You wanted me to come; you were so alone."

"No." He denied in confusion and fear. "You can't be here, you can't be real." The ashes, he'd left them upstairs and he cursed the folly; even if he had them, he couldn't seem to move.

"It's true." She bit her bottom lip, drawing his eyes to how unnaturally red they looked in the light of the fire and the absence of any other source.

It didn't matter; he didn't need the ashes. She wasn't real. He was having a nightmare and needed to wake himself up. He clenched his hands into fists. "You're not real!" he growled, his true-face snapping to the surface—and he lunged at her with vamp-speed. He would go right through her, she would disappear and he would wake up again.

But she met him in the middle; it was like he collided with a brick wall, she didn't budge an inch. Instead, Katherine met him in an embrace; an arm wending around his waist to press their pelvises together, the other hand caressing through his styled hair to rest at the nape of his neck.

He tried to throw himself from her arms, but it was too late. She had him, she was stronger than him—she was not a dream. Katherine was present, solid, and real pressed against him. Elena, she must have compelled her for an invitation. He could not fathom Elena's death, he would know. He would know!

Katherine pressed upward against him, the pressure of her manicured fingers at his nape tipping his face down—she brushed her glistening wet ruby lips against his, painting his pink lips crimson with blood.

His lips trembled. He quelled the immediate, dangerous urge to flick his tongue across as his lips as the scent prevailed into his nostril so temptingly. "Please, stop." he managed to exhale without moving his tongue or lips. It tingled against his skin, demanding to be consumed.

"Stefan," she hushed, caressing his frozen face. "I would never make you want to do anything you didn't want to." And she placed the manicured tip of her index finger on his coated bottom lip and pushed it into his mouth, pressing her now-coated finger passed his teeth and onto salivating tongue. Katherine watched with heated, brown eyes.

The hinges of his jaw tingled at the sweet taste, his eyes fluttered. A sound strained from the back of his throat. His lips involuntary closed around his her finger, his tongue undulating around her digit. She sighed steamily as she watched him, her lips parted. The veins around his eyes pulsed gently once around his eyes before they disappeared back beneath the surface.

"No." He growled harshly, breaking enough out of his locked body to grasp her delicately structured wrist painfully, yanking her finger from his mouth and tearing his face away to the side. His eyes squeezed tightly shut as he breathed harshly.

"Hush," she didn't appeared bothered as she soothed him, while her arm around his waist like a steal trap. "You won't recognize the taste now, it's different now that you're turned—but it's my blood, Stefan."

"What?" his head snapped back to her; his tongue drew across his lips like it was a compulsion put onto him.

She watched with pleasure as his already beautiful forest green eyes turned more so as his sclera flushed dark red. "I know you, Stefan. I've seen you. I've watched you. I would never leave you. I would never hurt you." She shifted him like he wasn't a life-sized doll, pushing him back onto the leather chair. "I can give you everything you ever wanted, Stefan."

He instantly tried to rise, but she pushed him down with a hand on his chest. He glared up at her. _You took everything from me!_ he wanted to scream at her as she put her hands on either of his wrists on the chair arms, leaning over him, her loose wavy hair tickling his cheeks. _And you're trying to take everything away from me again!_

"Just tell me," he whispered harshly as she straddled his lap, desperate. "Did you kill her? Did you kill Elena?"

"Stefan," Katherine murmured. "I didn't come here to talk about the doppelganger." She rested their foreheads together.

He squeezed his eyes shut, shutting her out. "Then why? Why are you here? Why are you doing this to me?"

"I can help you." She breathed his breath, her blood-painted lips brushing against his like a tickling feather as she murmured breathily, "I love you, Stef."

" _I HATE YOU!"_ Stefan reared forward, colliding skull, throwing the vampire off, speeding to his feet, vamp-face in full. But there was no crash, no snarl, no retaliation—Katherine had vanished. On guard, Stefan flitted through the entirety of the house, but it was empty, he was alone. "Elena!" he realized with panic, quickly pulling his cell phone from his pocket and speed dialing the teenager.

"Please, please, please..."

He started to pace over the spilled popcorn before the first ring even completed, his fear ratcheting upward as it rang a second time, a third, even a fourth, he was practically delirious on the fifth before she finally picked up.

"Hey--"

"Elena!" he gasped in relief, hand grasping the edge of the mantle in support.

"--this is Elena's phone! Leave a message and I'll call back." _beep!_

_No!_ "Elena, it's Stefan." He spoke hurriedly. "Please call me as soon as you get this, okay? I need to know you're alright." Stefan disconnected, his fingers trembling on the screen as he tried to scroll and select Damon's name. He pressed his cell phone roughly to his ear as he finally got it selected, a lump forming in his throat as it rang. The line connected halfway through the second ring.

"Lonely without me already?" Damon teased in hello.

"Damon?" he was shocked to hear it come out weak and timid instead of the desperate shout that had built inside of him as the seconds had passed during the ring.

"What happened?" Damon voice was immediately on alert. "Stefan!"

"Elena." Stefan swallowed. "You have to make sure Elena's okay, Damon! I tried to call but she didn't answer. Something’s wrong, she--"

"Are you okay?" he demanded.

"I'm fine!" he shouted, fraught. "It's Elena!" he stumbled as the chunk of mantle he had been gripping, suddenly snapped off in his hand.

"OK. OK." Stefan could hear the squeal of tires of Damon's Camaro. "I'm heading to Elena's right now."

"I'm coming too." Stefan stared listlessly at the chunk of wood in his hand for a moment before laid open his fingers and it tumbled to the floor like it was an anchor weighing him down. "I'm coming."

"No, Stefan!" Damon barked. "You're staying right where you are. I don't need to be worried where you are. You're safe there. Stefan, are you safe there?"

"Y-yes."

"Good. Stay right there. I'll get, Elena, okay? I'll get her. She'll be okay. Do you hear me, Stefan?"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay." Stefan whispered. "You'll make sure she's okay." He didn't even realize that he'd been crying until he tasted the saltiness on his lips when he spoke.

"Stay there!"

Stefan listened to the dial tone for a stretched minute before his arm dropped to his side, his cell slipping from his fingertips like a heavy stone. And he stayed there, right where Damon told him to and prayed that he really would _know_ if something terrible ever befell Elena. He swore that he would know.

tbc...

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I being mean with this cliffhanger? I also wrote this end scene a couple different ways as well (one a little more bloody and sexual) before I decided to settle on this one.


	9. CHAPTER 8

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

As soon as Stefan heard Damon's Camaro pull up outside of the house, he ran out onto the porch at vamp-speed, jumping down onto the gravel as Elena was shutting the passenger door. He scooped her up into his arms without warning and she gave a exclaim in surprise.

Elena quickly wrapped her arms around him in return. "I'm okay, Stefan. I'm okay." She pressed her mouth to his shoulder. "She didn't touch me, I promise."

"I thought she killed you," he shuddered, his face buried in her hair. He breathed in the same, unchanging scent of her shampoo; it was a relief to know that they didn't smell the same. Elena leaned toward fruity and Katherine toward floral. "I was so scared when you didn't answer your phone."

"I'm okay," she repeated soothingly. "My phone died, I plugged it in downstairs and forget when I went up to my room."

"Okay. Okay," he held her for a moment longer, eyes squeezed closed, soaking in her life, before he finally put her down, shifting back a little, but still touching.

"Are _you_ okay, Stefan?" she asked in concern, looking up at him. It was hard to see his face with the security light shinning directly behind him. "Katherine didn't-- Oh, my god. Is that blood?" she exclaimed, starting to reach for his face, but Damon sped around the car to their side, beating her to it.

He grabbed Stefan, spun him, and pushed him back against the car, putting the brunette in the direct beam of the light. His blue gaze cut over the clumped lashes, the tear-stains on Stefan's cheek and landed directly on the dried smear of blood under his bottom lip. Stefan was motionless under his brother's hold as Damon whipped the blood away on his thumb and sucked it from the pad.

Elena watched, blinking. "What are you--?" she made a weird face.

Damon's eyes narrowed considerably as he stared at his brother, as he quickly worked passed the saltiness of tears and got down to the true sweetness of the blood—her blood. "Katherine," he hissed and Stefan cringed.

"What!" Elena blurted in surprise.

"Inside. Now!" Damon growled at them. "Both of you!" he grabbed a fistful of Stefan's shirt, jerking him along and Elena rushed after.

"Damon, what's going on?" she asked again, worriedly.

Instead of answering her, as soon as the thick front door closed, Damon spun on his little brother, shoving him against the wood panelled wall of the entrance hall, making Stefan grunt at the force and Elena exclaim. "How long?" he gave him a shove again. "How long, Stefan?!"

"I... I don't--" Stefan shook his head in denial.

"Damon, stop!" she demanded.

Damon ignored her and glared at his obstinate brother who was refusing to allow himself to realize the truth. "Elena didn't invite her in," he growled harshly.

"Then how--?" Elena started.

"The blood!" Stefan realized. To be honest, he'd completely forgot about Katherine's bloody lips (and what that might actually mean) with his concern for Elena's safety, then the relief at seeing she actually was safe.

"What do you mean 'the blood'? What about the blood?" she looked between the two.

"I'm so stupid." Damon released him and Stefan slid down the wall to the floor.

"Stefan?" Elena knelt beside him, hand on his shoulder.

"Blood-magic, Elena." Damon said, staring down at his brother. "Katherine must have gotten her witch to bind their blood. They're already connected that way to a point. So am I; she's our sire, her blood is what turned us so there will always been a little part of her in us." She couldn't help but give a little shudder at the explanation. "So she essentially piggybacked on Stefan's invitation. But that wouldn't have been enough to get passed the threshold barrier, she had to deepen the connection..."

"Feeding you her fresh blood," Elena realized.

Damon nodded. "A consistent, continuous supply." He sat on the foot of the stairs. "Every time she gave him a dream about feeding off Alaric, she gave him her blood."

"And I was too freaked out, too _hungry_ from the vivid dream to realize that it was _her_ blood I was actually tasting and then I would instantly go out and gorge on animal blood, destroying all traces of it." Stefan rested his elbows on bent knees, hands shoved into his hair.

"Clever bitch," Damon could not help but admire Katherine’s ingenuity and it made him hate her all the more. "She missed out on a couple days though," he said. "That first night with the pendant; she couldn't get in your head with you wearing it, not by herself at least. And Teacher was an obstacle that wasn't there before. But that second night," he shook his head, giving a low whistle. "Full throttle."

"What exactly happened that night?" Elena asked, wishing she hadn't when Stefan crumpled before her eyes. "Stefan," she whispered, squeezing his shoulder in concern.

"Hey!" Damon snapped sharply at him, grabbing Stefan's chin and forcing the brunette to meet his sharp gaze; and startling Elena. "I told you this before: it was not your fault, Stefan. It was her, all her. It wasn't you. I'm here, Alaric is here. We're not going anywhere. Do you get me?" Damon waited for Stefan nod, solidify his gaze, before he released him and sat back. "Good. How long was she in here?"

Stefan cleared his throat. "Less than ten minutes. I didn't really see her, she just vanished."

Damon nodded. "The connection was weak. The last time you had her blood was Monday morning and it's been a few days. That's even better."

"Should I call Bonnie?" Elena wondered. "If this is a spell--"

Damon shook his head. "She's not going to be able to do anything—and I'm not taking a jab at her poor magical skills," he added at her glare. "We just need to detox him of her blood and the connection will break." Stefan immediately stiffened. "Not Ripper Detox, Stefan. This isn't like human blood for you." He assured. "We just gotta flush that bitch's toxic blood outta you; would be easier if you could drink human blood, it's more pure, but I guess you're just gonna have to gorge on a _bear_ or something for the next few days."

Stefan relaxed somewhat at that, and he glanced up, giving his brother a shy smirk. "You're going to go hunting with me?"

Damon gave a short, sarcastic chuckle. "Last time we did that, I convinced you to drink from a human and you went Ripper for 11 years before Lexi got to you."

Stefan snorted. "I think we both know better by now." Refusing to delve any deeper into that episode of weakness, and the following 35 years of harsh recovery before he was as much as 'himself' as he could ever be since he turned into a vampire, and focused on something that he would actually enjoy. He turned to his brother and shifted up on his knees, "Come on, it'll be fun. You can help me take out a _bear_ ,"

"You guys think you can take out a bear?" Elena asked skeptically. "Like an actual, real black bear?"

Both brothers looked at her. Stefan glanced back to Damon, "She doesn't think we can take out a bear, Damon. You're not the least bit insulted? I've seen you lift a car, but she doesn't think we can take a black bear?" He taunted, "Heh, they're not even the largest of their species and she thinks we're no match as the most badass predators out there."

Damon stood, his nostrils flaring. "We can so take out a bear, Elena."

"You sound pretty defensive about it," she said slowly, teasing, "For someone who can totally take out a black bear."

He gave her an indignant stare. "Stefan, come on."

"You're going now?" Elena looked after them in surprise.

Damon turned back to her. "It's unlikely that we're going to find a black bear right this second, Elena." He told her drily. "But Stefan still needs to feed and he'd not going by himself."

"I'm not the least bit insulted about the needing-a-babysitter-thing," he told him, skipping backward out the front door and grinning.

It had been decades since they last hunted together; not being on the same essential diet kind of did that. Once, Damon had been on a civil-kick and went hunting with him. 'Thumper's' blood barely grazed his tongue before he tossed the rabbit to Stefan, sputtering and spitting. Stefan's eyes danced as he drained his free-caught dinner, his smirk hidden in fur. It was a bonding experience, hunting together, working together to track and corner a prey—it was something that no one else could give him.

Stefan blurred around Damon's car and into the wood, Katherine's latest assault temporarily put out of his mind. He was more excited about the paired-hunt than the blood that would be achieved at the end.

"Stay inside!" Damon called back to her and flitted after his brother with a smirk flashing across his lips.

...

Stefan was practically skipping around his unimpressed brother as they emerged at the back of the Boarding House from the woods. The front of his shirt was covered in blood, his chin and neck stained with smears of dried blood. Damon was not untouched either, but the blood on his torn grey v-neck was his own. And they both looked like they had wrestled in a pile of leaves. They didn't find a bear, but the next best thing for the sake of blood volume.

"I can't believe you almost got disembowelled by that buck," Stefan chimed.

"Do you know how long its been since I had a proper hunt, since I've _killed_ something?" Damon returned, annoyed. He glared down at his ruined shirt. "I prefer wild human not wild animals, thank you."

"I could teach you," Stefan offered teasingly. "It takes a certain kind of hunter to go after my prey."

"You, the pseudo-vampire, teach me how to be a true predator?" Damon raised a brow.

"Don't be mean," Stefan pouted. "You're just angry that you didn't get to kill it after it almost took you out." He slung an arm around Damon's shoulders. "You didn't even drink any,"

"I could smell it, Stefan. That was enough for me to know not to drink it."

"You have a sensitive palate," he smirked.

"And you could drink road kill," Damon snarked back. "I think my tastes are just fine, thank you."

"One of these days," Stefan told him seriously. "I will get you to have a proper try."

"You're setting yourself an impossible task, brother."

"I don't know," Stefan said softly, dropping his arm as they climbed the stairs from the yard up to the piazza at the back of the house. "I got _you_ back, didn't I?" he went through the kitchen door to leave his brother staring after him a moment before following after.

Coming through the back, neither vampire where aware of the extra car or 2 in the drive, not until they discovered the three humans in the parlor after heading for the stairs.

"Hey," Stefan smiled at Alaric.

"Elena said you guys went hunting," Alaric said, gazing between the 2. "Going by the blood, can I guess it was a success?" Stefan bit his lip to try and limit the responding grin with zero success and Damon glowered to their enjoyment.

"Didn't listen to me, huh?" Damon directed to Elena drily before he left and headed upstairs.

Elena stared after Damon until he was out of sight before turning to Stefan. "What happened? Did you guys really find a bear?"

"What?" Bonnie said.

"No," Stefan chuckled. "Just a really pissed off buck that didn't appreciate Damon's lacklustre efforts at killing it."

"Stop talking smack about me," he heard Damon say from upstairs with his hearing.

Stefan turned his head, laughing, knowing the vampire would hear him as he spoke just a regularly. "It's not smack if it's the truth."

His attention was drawn back to the others when Bonnie plucked a twig from his slightly mussed hair, twirling it in her fingers with an amused expression. "Tarzaning it up again?"

"You know me, poor Jane is just going to have to be jealous." It was their own little joke; Alaric and Elena shared looks of confusion and Stefan and Bonnie grins. Stefan turned to the real matter of why they were all here with a sigh, "I guess Elena filled you in on what happened when you got here?"

Bonnie nodded and bit her lip. "You doing okay?"

"I feel fine."

"She was really in here?" Alaric asked. "I didn't even know that was possible,"

"It's just another, more evil and thought-out loophole through the threshold barrier, like compelling someone to invite you in or make sure someone specific doesn't get invited."

"In other words," Damon said, returning back downstairs clean and dressed fresh, "It has Katherine written all over it. She wasn't going to let a little thing like a threshold barrier stop her from getting what she wanted." He stared at his brother pointedly.

Stefan cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly under the intense blue stare at the reminder. "I'm going to go get cleaned up," he flashed Alaric a guilty look and blurred upstairs and into his bedroom, only realizing that it was his actual bedroom and not Zach's old one that he'd been spending the last few days in until he was throwing his shirt into the hamper.

He grimaced, but he was already in here, so he just grabbed clean clothes from the wardrobe and went to his en suite to wash the blood off at the sink. He brushed his teeth and was gurgling mouthwash when he became aware of Alaric presence in the doorway.

He spit in the sink, avoiding Ric's gaze. "Hey, I'm almost done. I'll be down in a sec." He wiped his mouth with a face towel.

"The look you gave me before you ran up here had me worried." Alaric explained. "What happened?"

"You already know--" he started but Alaric shook his head.

"I believe you when you told Bonnie you feel fine. And it's not your fault that she got in," he added when the vampire opened his mouth. "It's something else that you're tearing yourself inside up about... something that involves me?" Stefan flashed him an ashamed and pained look that just confirmed it. "Tell me?"

Stefan was reticent, but he knew he owed Alaric the truth as much as he didn't want to. "That night we found out that Katherine was back," he started, "she gave me another dream. Only this time it wasn't me attacking you, but it was me and _her_." He looked away. "I think-- no, I _was_ human in it... and she kissed me, her mouth full of blood." He squeezed his eyes shut; Alaric's hands tightened into fists at his sides in silent anger. "She told me she loved me and that we were soulmates and we belonged together forever, before she fed on me. And that was when Damon woke me up."

He heard nothing but Alaric's forced deep, even breathes and chanced a look at the dark-blond; he wanted to cringe but made himself continue. "And tonight-- she had blood on her lips-- And she--"

"She kissed you," Alaric finished for him gruffly, it wasn't directed at the vampire in front of him, but Stefan took it that way anyway. When all of this went down and he found out about the blood, Stefan wondered exactly how she gave him her blood. Was it from a bottle, or her wrist, or was it like that dream? "Is that all?"

Stefan scoffed. "Do you want me to give you a play-by-play?" it was sarcastic, a defense mechanism, but Alaric just said:

"Is that what you want? Would it make you feel better?" his fingers loosened.

Stefan stared at the man for a long minute, trying to figure out by his neutral expression if this was some kind of test or if he thought that it might actually help. Ric wasn't cruel, though.

Alaric couldn't help the flash of surprise when Stefan suddenly blurred the few feet that separated them, arm going around his waist, pressing them flush together. Stefan fingers caressed through his dirty-blond locks, gently grasping the nape of his neck—and Alaric could feel the immense strength that just hovered behind each touch, powerful, controlling. Stefan was taking him up on the offer, he should not be aroused and concentrate on the angry fact that Katherine thought she could pull this shit on Stefan when the vampire was _his_ boyfriend(!), but the intense look in his green gaze was so attractive and near hypnotizing.

Alaric felt pressure at the back of his neck, tearing his thoughts back as Stefan pressed against him. He was still as the vampire came close, his breath almost stuttering to a stop as Stefan's lips brushed against his, slow, light pressure, gaze never leaving his, their noses grazing—such an intimate gesture. Alaric wanted to murder Katherine.

The hunter wondered how Stefan could have responded. He knew the teen would not have taken the blood, accepted a kiss. Stefan would have tried to pull away. Alaric was only human, he could never get away unless Stefan allowed it. The vampire could just as easily snap his neck, crush his spine, or break his ribs in this hold. Katherine was over 500 years old, unless Alaric was missing something, she never would have let Stefan go.

Stefan moved his hands from the nape of Alaric's neck and gently caressed his face, the stubble on his cheek. "I would never make you do anything you didn't want to do," he whispered and Alaric tensed at the words, unsure. Stefan's fingers traced his jaw before his index rested against the man's bottom lip, and slowly pressed his finger forward into Alaric's mouth.

Alaric's blue eyes widened. His lips automatically closed on Stefan's finger, sucking on it, making Stefan's breath exhale hotly, his pupils darken. All he tasted was soap on the brunette's finger, but Stefan would have finally tasted the blood that coated his lips. The response, despite how strong the younger Salvatore was, would have been pure instinctual in response. He would panic, try to get away, Katherine wouldn‘t let him. He would immediately discern quickly that it wasn't animal or even human.

"It's mine. I know you. I've watched you. I would never leave you. I would never hurt you." Stefan repeated. Alaric reached up, grasping his wrist and freeing his mouth, unknowing repeating Stefan's gesture just in a different mood, concern brimming his blue eyes, but Stefan stopped him before he could say anything. "I can give you everything you ever wanted." Stefan effortlessly moved the larger man back onto the closed lid of the toilet, and straddled his lap, bare-chested but for the pendant, taking his wrists and immobilizing the teacher. Stefan leaned forward and rested their foreheads together, breathing the human's breath, their lips brushing like a whisper. "I can help you. I love you."

Alaric jolted his head back. "Stefan--"

The vampire's expression broke. "I managed to shove her off and she vanished." He released the man's wrist and started to stand. "I'm sorry."

But Alaric didn't allow him. "Stop it," he said firmly, meeting the ashamed green gaze, making the other unable to break it. "You did nothing wrong, Stefan."

He shook his head. "I didn't try hard enough. I could have--"

"Katherine is almost 5 times your age. You weren't expecting her, she took you when your guard was down, where you thought you were safe. She had you, there was nothing you could do. You acted when you had the opportunity."

"How can you just sit here, this calm?" Stefan asked genuinely. "If she did that to you, Ric--" he shook his head, unable to even verbalize.

"Trust me, I am beyond furious, but it's a little hard to emulate that with you in my lap like this." Alaric squeezed his hips, glancing down at his exposed chest. "You're very distracting in the best possible way." Stefan looked embarrassed in a happy way. Alaric's thumb petted smooth flesh. "Stefan, she's trying to seduce you. And she's very good at it."

"I know." He whispered. "It's not going to work," he promised.

"I know, Stefan. I trust you," Alaric assured. "That's not what I'm worried about."

"Then what?"

"What is she going to do when she realizes you'll never reciprocate?"

"She'll kill you," his voice cracked. "She'll kill Elena. She'll kill everyone I love to make me suffer, show me what it's like to have no to love me. She'll truly break me. You don't scorn Katherine Pierce and just walk away."

"Promise me something?"

Stefan looked at him. "What?"

"If something happens--" he started.

"No!" Stefan told him vehemently, hands tightening above Alaric's elbows.

"That's not what I meant," Alaric stopped him. "If something happens, if she ever manages to get her hands on you... promise me—you'll play along."

"What? No."

"Yes."

He shook his head. "I'm not going to betray you like that."

Alaric cupped his face. "You're not betraying me, Stefan. You play her game to stay alive until we can find you or you kill her. Please? She's not going to stop until one or both of you is dead—so _you_ do everything to make sure she is that one. You drink her blood, you kiss her, you fuck her, you pretend to love her back," Stefan made a strained noise in the back of his throat, his green eyes coated in unshed tears, "And then you rip that bitch's black heart from her chest. Okay?"

Stefan inhaled a shaky breath. "Okay," he rasped.

Alaric thumbed away a tear that escaped. "I love you, don't forget that." He pressed his lips over the teen's undead heart before laying his cheek on his chest. Alaric wished he could recognize the beat of Stefan's heart like the vampire did his.

"Never." Stefan gave a small shiver as Alaric's stubble aroused his nipple, his fingers playing in his thick dirty-blond locks. The man seemed content to stay there, but the vampire knew they couldn't, not with the others downstairs waiting. "We can't stay like this forever."

"Mm, just one more minute." Alaric nuzzled against his chest.

Stefan chuckled, his head angling slightly as he listened. "Damon doesn't agree,"

"Oh, really," Alaric remarked drily, raising his head. "When does Damon ever?"

"He said that if we're not down there in a minute, then they're coming up here in a minute."

"If he wants to get a visual picture of what we're doing, he's welcome." Ric retorted, his tone suggestive for Damon and gaze playful for Stefan. Stefan looked both embarrassed and amused as he listened to his brother's unabashed response. "What?"

Stefan cleared his throat. "He said he's already seen me naked more times than you ever could, and if you think that a glimpse your little teacher's pet with deter him, you're wrong; he's very comfortable in his masculinity. He'll do it just to prove a point," Stefan warned.

"He obviously doesn't know 'teacher's pet' as well as he thinks," Alaric joked.

"I've seen Damon naked and he definitely shouldn't be so cocky," Stefan told him seriously, both their eyes dancing in silent laughter as they met gazes. Stefan snorted a beat later. "You are _not_ coming up here, Damon." He called. "We're coming down. You 2 can measure your dicks some other time without me as the middleman." He pressed a kiss to a deeply amused Alaric's lips before he finally stood. "Exactly who is the perpetual teenager here?"

"Teacher's pet," Alaric mused as he stood and followed the brunette out as he slipped a shirt overhead. "That’s actually kind of cute. Would it be weird if I called it that now?"

"Yes!" Damon's voice rung in stereo with his brother's in human hearing before the pair even made it to the top of the stairs.

"You started it," Alaric told the raven-haired vampire nonchalantly in closing when they entered the parlor.

Damon rolled his blue-eyes and pinned Stefan with the gaze, "This is how this is going to go, baby brother..."

~ **_T V D_** ~

Stefan wasn't going to admit that he waited until he heard Damon's shower; the timing just lined up perfectly for when he was about ready to leave so he took advantage of the opportunity.

Someone had been in his company for literally the last 3 days, his only peace was bathroom breaks and showers. It was like house arrest, hunting his only yard time, Damon his cellmate, security guard, and warden all rolled into one. There was really nothing Alaric, Elena or Bonnie could do but visit him _after_ school. The reason it was happening sucked, but Stefan took advantage of his partnered hunting sprees while he could because he knew that it wasn't going to be a continuous thing once the whole 'Katherine' was no longer a situation.

For Stefan, hunting was usually a boring, lonely act of necessity over the years. He usually just did it fast and clean and moved on; like a horrible health shake in the morning. But with Damon stalking at his side, an old excitement re-emerged in that dulled, predatory side of him. Damon helped him pursue bigger, more elusive animals that he never bothered to waste his time on. They never did find a black bear, but the 2 vampires tracked, boxed in, and took down a bob cat that Stefan got to drain and even Damon had taken a taste in curiosity.

Stefan had actually gotten some sleep with Damon watching over him like a gargoyle. There had been no other appearance from Katherine; which was a relief, but really meant she was off somewhere planning more schemes—and Stefan was sick of hiding so she could come and bite another piece out of his soul. Of waiting for her to chip away the pieces, break him, and become something of her birth that he couldn't recognize. Yes, he gave Damon control, but did that mean he was just supposed to let everybody tuck him away and fight his battles for him?

Stefan pulled on a dark jacket and glided down the stairs to the front door. He opened it and paused, glancing back, still able to hear the shower on the second floor. "I'm going hunting," he called for propriety, quickly closed the door and blurred across the drive into the woods to cover himself.

But instead of delving deeper into the woods, he blurred back around the property, hidden in the dense tree line back toward the highway and into town. He didn't lie when he said he was going hunting, it just wasn't his usual fur-covered, four-legged critter. He had prey to stalk today, a certain two-legged, blond-haired uncle who knew too much about him for Jonathan Gilbert's Journals to be accountable for.

When Stefan first started his hunt, he got that old familiar tingle of excitement at the base of his spine as he tracked the man down and laid his first sight on John Gilbert. It had been _decades_ , since he'd last prowled a human. It was such a different feeling than hunting after tiny heartbeats in the underbrush; of course there was a certain nuance to it, that instinctual predatory radar was more heightened and refined in four-legged mammals than two; but there was more excitement, more glee when stalking his natural prey.

Humans still had instinct engraved deep in their DNA; that flight or fight response that separated predator from prey. In some, it was just more defined; goose bumps, raised hair at the nape of the neck, the indefinable itch between the shoulder blades. All warnings. More intoxicating was the spike of sweat; it just made the vampiric taunting even more enjoyable to _smell_ the fear before striking, get the heart pumping, the blood racing.

Of course, as a man on the Council, who knew of the true scary monsters that moved in the night and those few that could in the day, John's instinct was going to be more refined, more attuned, so Stefan had to be even more careful. It was also what made it even more stimulating. Stefan's tongue traced the point of his already naturally pointed canines, like the physical manifestation of his soul's perpetual hunger.

There had been one moment, when he was so lost in the trip, focused on John's heartbeat in stereo, the timbre of his breathing, his _scent_ that he nearly lost himself to his natural predatory predilections; snatching the man from the sidewalk and dragged him into the empty alley, throw him up against the wall and sink his hungry fangs into the Gilbert's neck. Stefan would _drink_ the man's screams, like a spice to the savoury sauce of his hot blood, he would take the blond's fundamental resistance with relish—when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he jolted as if he'd been electrocuted.

He sucked in a sharp breath and threw himself forcefully back against the brick wall, trying to shake it away. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. It was so intoxicating, so easy to fall back into it if he wasn't careful, paying attention. He forced his hindbrain back to darkness and gained conscious control again.

Hands still a little shaky from the bolt of adrenaline, Stefan took out his cell phone as it continued to vibrate. Looking at the screen, he realized that this wasn't the first call or text that he had missed, and not just from Damon either. When the vampire got out of the shower and realized Stefan was gone, he must have called the others, who in turn had tried to him as well.

**I'm fine** Stefan texted and paused for a moment before adding **I'm hunting** and sent it. He stowed the cell back into his pocket. He knew that wouldn't satisfy his brother but there was nothing he could do about that right now.

He exhaled and thumped his head back against the wall; he hadn't even thought about the consequence while he was in that trance. Like he knew John was smart enough to not only have vervain on him, but that he would also consume it. If Stefan had actually gone through with the attack, he would have just ended up like Katherine that night in 1864 when his father had slipped vervain into his drink and she had fed from him; only John would just stake him outright, he was sure—otherwise, if his suspicions were correct, John would hand him over to Katherine. That gave the vampire pause and food for thought.

But even if Stefan managed to kill John, the blond man still had the magical Gilbert ring that would bring him back from a supernatural death. The thought of that man working with Katherine, having that ring... it made the cruel, curious part of him want to go through with it, and let the Ripper tear the man's head off, just to finally _know_ if the ring could heal even that for Alaric's sake. Stefan pushed the dark thoughts away.

He was about to leave the alley and resume his tail on John as the man got into his truck when his cell started to persistently vibrate against his thigh. He pulled back and took it out, Damon's face taking up the screen. Exhaling, he slid the bar and put the phone to his ear.

As soon as he answered, Damon opened with an irritated: "Do you want to tell me exactly why you're on Wilma Av. in the middle of town, brother?"

"How--?" Stefan started in surprise, then scoffed in realization. "You loaded that parent-stalking app on my phone when I forgot it that one time, didn't you?"

"Completely unashamedly," he replied crisply. "So, did you take a wrong turn at that one pine tree or were you so absorbed pursuing a large rodent that you followed it all the way into town while you were, as you put it 'hunting'?" he continued sarcastically. "Which is it, Stefan?"

"Listen--" Stefan started. He stepped casually from the alley mouth onto the sidewalk and strolled the same way the blond was headed. One thing he had learned: John Gilbert was a boring man or maybe it was an off day or he was just being a regular guy with no friends on a Sunday. The Coffee House, the Bank, the Mayor's office briefly, the Pharmacy. Now it looked like he was headed home in his truck. Boring. It made the vampire question why he always become so helpless when face-to-face.

"I don't care." Damon told him. "Turn your skinny ass around right now, Stefan. I can see you right now as the this little red, bratty dot on my laptop screen and you're going the wrong way."

"I'm not coming home." Stefan told him. "I'm going to talk to John Gilbert. He's knows too much, he's connected to Katherine, I know he is."

"Stefan, you stay away from him, do you hear me?" Damon cursed at him and he could hear the scrape of a chair, the front door slam. "Don't you move another foot." The car door then the roar of the engine. "I'm coming for your ass." The squeal of burning rubber.

"I've thought about this." Stefan insisted. He turned the corner onto an empty street. "Hang on," he said.

"Stef--" Stefan pressed his phone to his chest a vamp-sped to the residential street where John's leased house was. Apparently, he decided to stay even after Alaric had raided the place, figuring it was as safe as any place could be that could not be breached by a vampire but still broken into as a human. Stefan still didn't know if they had found the other half of the Gilbert Device that night of the Founder's Day Parade. He stopped a few houses down, in cover. "Stefan!" he put the phone back to his ear.

"I've thought about this." Stefan repeated calmly. "He'll either finally try and stake me, or he's going to take me to Katherine."

"That's your bright idea: walk into the bitch's evil clutches and give her exactly what she wants?!"

"I just want this to end, Damon. I just want to live my life!"

"I know, Stef. I know," he said softly. "But confronting him alone, _her_ alone... there's nothing smart about that. You're being me from before when I didn't care about the consequences and just acted. But there are consequences, Stefan. Katherine will never let you go once she has you, she'll steal you away. You think you wouldn't know how to live this eternal life without me in it?" Damon question. "How do you think that I could?" Stefan's breath hitched at the admission. "Just turn around and walk away, Stefan. Come on, baby brother."

Stefan was quiet for a long moment, staring across the street at the lit kitchen window. He just wanted to finish this, but Damon was more important. If the rolls were reversed, Stefan would never let Damon pull this crap and go it alone either. "Okay." He finally agreed. "Okay." He turned: "Ah!" Stefan let out a scream at the sudden pain in his head, hands going up to clutch at his head.

"Stefan, what is it? What's happening?" Damon shouted.

"Witch!" Stefan managed to utter through pain-gritted teeth. Was this what Bonnie had done to Damon so briefly back in the tomb; giving him a burst aneurysm over and over again? It was so painful, it was immobilizing. He screamed through gritted teeth, ears bleeding, struggling not to crumple to the ground and let it consume him.

His true-face tore free at the pain ripping through his brain. He tried to lunge at her, but his equilibrium was off and he ended up just stumbling onto his hands and knees, losing his cell phone.

"Damon," Stefan tried to reach for the phone but she kicked it away.

"Stop struggling, sweetie. Just let it take you," she put a heeled boot to the small of his back, easily pinning the weakening vampire to the sidewalk. "We're all just better off giving her what she wants."

"Argh!" Stefan tried to claw his way out from under her foot, but she just continued to blow his brain apart from the inside with magic.

"We good?" John questioned, crouching over him on the sidewalk.

Stefan renewed his struggle, snarling, to little avail. John grabbed a fistful of his styled hair, shoved his face into the sidewalk and the vampire felt the prick of a needle in his neck. "No!"

"We're cloaked." She said.

"Good." Stefan groaned as John pressed the plunger and acid filled his blood, his vision darkening. "Let's get this over with; she can have him and get out of my town."

The witch chuckled. "You think it's that easy?"

Stefan lost the fight and went slack.

~ **_T V D_** ~

"Hm." Stefan gave a discontent groan, shifting on his bed. His head was achy and foggy and he didn't want to wake up and go on a hunt for blood just to make it go away. But he settled back as long, lethal fingers carded through his hair, messaged his skull. As they stroked around his eyes, traced his lips, the column of his throat. A soft floral scent invaded his senses, setting off tiny warning bells in his head.

Something wasn't right, this wasn't right!

He was talking to Damon on the phone, then the most harsh pain in his brain, John Gilbert, the witch. His eyes snapped open and he found himself staring into soft hooded brown eyes. This time when his conscious screamed _KATHERINE_!, he knew it was the reality and not just a supplication of injury and blood loss. There was intent behind each stroke, not innocent care and concern like when Elena found him on the floor minus a liver or Ric making sure he wasn't hurting him the first time they had sex.

Stefan blurred off the bed, and against the unrecognized bedroom wall, as far from her as he could in the room. "Katherine."

"Morning, sleepyhead." She sat up on the bed where she had been curled beside him.

Stefan didn't wait another second, he tore the bedroom door open and blurred through the house. He got the front door open but when he tried to leave, there was an invisible barrier preventing him. He threw his shoulder into it futilely. It was the reverse of a threshold barrier; keeping him inside instead of out.

Katherine unhurriedly came after him. "That hurts, Stef. You hardly said hello before you tried to leave."

Stefan closed his eyes briefly before he turned to her. "Doesn't look like that's going to happen anytime soon."

"That's Lucy's handiwork, she's very good."

"Don't think I'm going to give her any compliments," Stefan returned. His brain still hurt.

Katherine approached. He was still as she leaned close and reached around him, closing the front door. "Wouldn't want the neighbours to get any ideas." She straightened but didn't step back.

He refused to step back and let her win, but she probably did either way. "This is stupid, Katherine, let me go."

"You're the one who came looking for me, remember?" she murmured. "I knew you would. You followed John around all day like a puppy clinging to my scent." She put her hands flat on his defined chest, looking up at him. "Bet it got you all hot and bothered, bet you lost yourself in the hunt. You can tell me, Stefan. There's nothing wrong with being yourself."

Stefan’s lips curled; he would never admit that he did get lost in it for that one instant. He put his hands on her narrow shoulders and pushed her firmly back from him.

She sighed in disappointment and dropped her hands from his chest. "It's okay. We have time," she assured him. "I'm going to get something to eat. Let you acclimate, explore the new place."

He watched her pad away in bare feet, presumably heading for the kitchen. She had no fear of turning her back on him. It wasn't that she was conceited, because she certainly was that, but despite the many things that lay between him and her retreating back that could be made into a makeshift stake that would get the job done—she could have his heart in her hand before he could even get halfway to her.

So instead of going through with a rash plan that was just going to fail, he took stock. Stefan was relieved to find himself wearing the same clothes he'd dressed in the other day, minus his jacket and boots. He patted down his pockets and silently cursed; the vial of ash was gone. His hand shot up to his throat in a clutch of anxiety, only to exhale in relief as his fingers curled around the pendant beneath his shirt.

He glanced around the front hall, pausing as he found his boots lined on a rubber mat by the door, his jacket hanging on the rack, and the missing contents of his jean pockets (wallet, key ring etc.) settled in a ceramic dish on a side table by the door. Somehow, this display was even more disconcerting than if he'd woken up in bed naked; this display had all the implications of him having _returned_ to his _home, willingly_ after a day out and hung up his stuff as if he _lived_ here. He gave a shudder at the thought.

She also didn't have to worry about him trying to physically escape the house, not with the magical barrier up, leaving him to 'acclimate' to his new hell. So he went the opposite of Katherine's path to the kitchen and explored. It was a large, single-floored house with a large master bedroom, fully applied en suite. He went through the drawers and large closet, not because he expected to find something to use against Katherine, she was too meticulous to leave chance of that, but from curiosity and wished he hadn't. They were filled with clothes; hers... and his, all new, all unworn.

This put the whole metaphor of him being Katherine's plaything to a whole other frightening level. Damon and Ric were right, she had no intention of letting him out of here. She had complete control—and he was fucked.

Play along. That was what Alaric had asked him to do if this very situation came and went. But if he was just suddenly compliant, suddenly receptive, she would know that he was just playing her and you didn't play Katherine Pierce, she played you.

He took a deep breath and left the bedroom, heading to the other side of the house. The living room was a carpeted den, with bookshelves, plus a corner sofa and a expensive entertainment center. The kitchen was all marble counters and stainless steel, a gas stove. Stefan stood in the kitchen doorway, watching her.

She sat up on the breakfast bar, her barefoot propped on the edge, knee bent in a pair of cut-off shorts; showing off the lean, long lines of her olive-toned legs, drinking from a tall glass of blood. He pursed his lips at the prevailing scent of human blood; he felt like he was staving.

"What do you think?" she asked him curiously.

"One bed, really?" he asked sarcastically.

"I think it's homely," she looked around the kitchen as she took a sip from her glass, "Not as unappealing as I thought when I first found it." Katherine looked back at him as he just sighed and said nothing further. "Want some? You must be hungry after Lucy played poppers with your brain."

Stefan gave her a very stale look.

"Oh, not this," she pointed at her glass. "I'm not Damon, Stefan. I'm not going to try to seduce you with human blood, or convince you drink it. I know how you feel about it." She set her half-full glass down and leapt off the counter, lethal like a feline. "We've got animal blood." She took a glass off the open shelf and went to the fridge, filling it from a crystal pitcher filled with blood. Its shelves were a mixture of regular food, blood bags, and similarly filled pitchers. She held the glass out to him, "It's fresh, imported, just for you." Stefan made no move to take it, despite his mouth watering at the scent. "It's clean, I didn't do anything to it. Look," she brought the glass to her lips and look a sip. Katherine grimaced, forcing herself to swallow and not spit up, shuddering. "See? You have a very strong constitution when it comes to blood, Stefan. I honestly don't know how you've been able to do this for the last... 74 years, is it?" he narrowed his gaze at her. "It's impressive." She sighed, "you want to keep your strength up, don't you?" he took the glass and sniffed it suspiciously (his gums aching) but still refused to drink. "Or you can drink straight from the vein," she offered, fingers brushing the inside of her wrist invitingly.

The glass found his lips pretty fast after that. The first swallow made the veins tingle around his eyes, and he continued to drink. It actually tasted pretty good, not that he would say it, fresh like Katherine had said, not the kind of 'fresh as of today' blood the butcher had sold to Elena.

Glass drained, he slowly walked her back against the counter, leaning over her, setting the glass down. But he stayed. "What the hell is this, Katherine. Really?" he growled.

"Mm." She arched against him. "I just love it when you go dominant."

He refused to let her distract him. "What are you planning, Katherine. What is the real reason you kidnapped me?

"I love you, Stefan."

Stefan scoffed in disbelief, stepping back. "You don't love people, Katherine. We're just things to entertain you until you grow bored and discard us without mercy."

"I don't love people," she agreed, straightening. "Just you."

Stefan gave his head a little shake, staring. "How could I ever believe that?" he whispered. His curiosity was genuine of her answer.

She slowly closed the distance between them and he let her. "I know I haven't done a lot to prove that to you, but this time is different. I'm different, Stefan."

"Those are just... shiny words."

"Not just words." She said. "I haven't killed anyone, have I?"

"You killed Alaric!" he burst, a sudden ball of fury exploding in his chest from a cold depth.

"He came back to life--" she realized her mistake too late.

"You snapped his neck," he grabbed her around the neck and shoved her against the fridge with enough force to dent the steel with her body.

"Stefan," she choked.

"You fucked with my head, making me believe that I had murdered him." His face transformed viciously. "I flipped the switch because of it! I almost killed Damon!" he roared.

He was about to plunge his hand into her chest when she kneed him in the crotch. He grunted in pain, his hold on her throat loosening involuntarily. She quickly grabbed his upper arm that was pinning her with both hands and gave it a vicious twist. With a short cry of pain he released her, but still holding his arm, she wasn't finished. She twisted his arm at the shoulder joint, forcing the younger vampire onto his knees and put her barefoot on his shoulder, pushing with her foot and pulled with her hands. There was a muffled snap and the scream was forced from him as she dislocated his shoulder and tore his rotator cuff to his already broken arm.

Katherine was the only thing keeping him up so when she loosened her hold on his arm, it slid from her fingers like a limp noodle and Stefan slumped onto his side on the floor at her feet.

"It's rude to choke a lady, Stefan." She looked down at him, unimpressed. "There's blood in the fridge, help yourself." She stepped over his prone body and left the kitchen.

Stefan grasped his broken shoulder and snapped it back into place before his body could heal itself incorrectly and he would have to re-injure himself. He slumped back onto the floor, coming down as the wound healed and the pain ebbed. So much for playing along; he'd lost his cool in 3 minutes, something just snapped in him.

Grasping the edge of the breakfast bar, he hauled himself to his feet, carefully rotating his healed shoulder, grimacing a little. He took his empty glass from the counter and turned to the dented fridge. He only filled it half full. He hardly tasted the blood as he floundered for a plan of action. He heard the shower turn on; if only his escape could be as easy as it had been with Damon, and Stefan wished it hadn't.

He either needed to kill her (not that he thought that would break the barrier spell on the house, but at least he wouldn't have to suffer through her company and relish her death as he waited); or he'd just have to hold on until the others found Lucy and either killed her or got her to take down the spell, then Bonnie could use a locator spell to find him because he wouldn't be cloaked anymore.

Stefan went to the sink and turned the faucet on for extra coverage and started going through the drawers. The butcher knives were all well and good—if he could chop her head off, otherwise... it was too big of a leap that he would get such an opening, especially after his earlier attempt. He closed the drawer and moved on, pausing for a moment as he stared at the wooden spoon. He was wary for a moment; was it a test or was it something that she had simply overlooked? She couldn't prepare for _every_ possible proceeding, could she? If it had just been a single spoon, he would have went with the former, but there was more than one so he took it on faith and bet of the latter. He would accept a toothpick if he had to; all he needed was a sliver in her heart and she was dead. He picked up the spoon and went back to the butcher drawer. With four smooth strokes with the blade at the end of the handle over the sink, he had his stake. The wooden slivers washed down the drain and from existence, the knife back in its proper place.

He went into the living room, searching the spotless room for the perfect hiding place that would be within fast and easy reach of him when the opportunity presented itself. He settled on between the couch cushion and the arm of the couch. Stefan would have to lure her to him (which he didn't think would be too hard, not with how physical/flirty the older vampire always was), get her guard down (which would be harder; she would be on alert, especially with what just went down in the kitchen), and then he would strike. He needed to play this careful, smart. Katherine may have let his first attempt go, but he would never get a third chance.

He sat at the end of the corner couch as he heard the shower end. Five minutes later, Katherine returned wearing a short robe and wet hair twisted into a towel.

"You're turn," she told him, curling a leg under her as she sat in the corner, facing him, and revealing more of her toned skin.

"No, thanks," he declined with disinterest and didn't pay her figure any attention either; he knew she preened under it. He couldn't deny that she was a very attractive woman; if only her character would take a hint.

"You need it, Stef. And a change of clothes. You're starting to get a little ripe."

"I'm good." He drummed his fingers boredly on the couch arm. He was never going to wear the clothes she had bought for him and he was especially not going to leave himself vulnerable in the nude with her claws around.

She narrowed his eyes at him. "You're pouting because I broke your arm? That's below you, Stefan. Was I just supposed to let you take my heart physically like I already have emotionally?"

Stefan couldn't stop the snort of disbelief and he turned his head to look at her. "Where did you copy that from?"

"That hurts, Stefan." She whispered it so sincerely he almost could have believed it. He just shook his head and stared straight ahead again. "You're being mean," she pouted. Katherine untwisted the towel from her head, and shook her wavy hair out. "It's not very sexy." She tossed the damp towel at his head. He quickly caught it and dropped it onto the cushion that separated them. He glared at her and she bit her lip. "That's better,"

"Why now?" he growled. "After all this time, why now?"

She crawled across the short distance between them (step 1), her sash loosening and her robe opening slightly as she settled next to him, her knees tucked under her, her arm laid across the back of the couch behind his shoulders as she faced him. "I came for you, Stefan."

"If you loved me. If you wanted me, wanted us to be together—why did you wait so long to reveal yourself? Why now?" he gave her an almost pleading look. "Why now, Katherine?" What he really wanted to ask was: _Why now, why when I have finally found someone to love and love me back? If you really loved me, you would have stayed away and let me finally have this piece of happiness_ — _this life, my friends, my love, my brother. Otherwise, if you couldn't love me broken, then you don't love me at all. Why now?_

She gave a heat-broken sigh, gently caressing his cheek. "I couldn't. It was too dangerous. You don't live over 500 years and not make enemies, Stefan. Powerful enemies for who its better to believe that I was captured and burned in a church in a little town in Virginia, than for them to know that I was still alive. If I came to you and someone saw me who knew them and they got word, then you would have been put in danger too.

"So I kept my distance, but kept tabs on you—to make sure you were okay. I would look in on you from to time to time when I thought it would be safe.

"The last time I got to see you, was in '87. You were at a Bon Jovi concert with Lexi, dancing in the front row all night." She carded her fingers through his flat hair. "That grunge look didn't suit you. I like this style better."

Stefan's throat tightened. She'd been spying on him this whole time. It made his skin crawl, but he suppressed the outward manifestation; she would feel it. He couldn't believe he'd been so oblivious, how could he not have felt the stalking hiss of the viper? He was jolted back to the present as her fingers left his hair and she stroked his cheek.

"You were dead, Katherine." He whispered, staring into her eyes. "All this time, I thought you were dead, when you could have been ten feet away in a crowd the whole time and I would have thought I was seeing things. I was so alone. You were gone, Damon left. He blamed me for your capture and death and he was right. It was my fault the Council found out about you. I thought I was helping, but I just exposed you to my father and he used me like a Trojan horse to capture you." There was just the right amount of shine to his green eyes.

She tried to comfort him, shifting into his lap. The sash on robe was particularly useless at holding it closed, she was practically naked in his lap. Her 19 year old figure hadn't changed a bit in the last 145 years, not that a vampire body was wont to do that; they were all just frozen in time. His traitorous cock stirred. He mentally scolded his body for the involuntary response. Being who she was, he knew Katherine notice the minute shift in exchange. Just a little more; he just needed to play along a little longer.

"I tried to move on, but it never worked. It was never right. It was a little easier with men, but not by much. And when I saw Elena," he shook his head in wonder, "I thought she was you. Somehow come back, somehow alive. If there was anyone who could find a cure to vampirism, it's was you, Katherine." She preened a little under that. "But she wasn't. She looked like you, but she wasn't _you_." He confessed; her wrists were on his shoulders, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

His left hand caressed her hip, pulling the robe open further; his right hand slowly, smoothly inching between the cushion for the wooden spoon stake he'd hidden, unnoticed. Katherine arched her pelvis against him in response, her brown gaze locked onto his in lust, pupils large with her arousal as she slowly started to close the distance between their mouths, her hands cupping his head. This was it; high fingers wrapped around the spoon, his left arm tightened around her.

"There's no one like you," he whispered truthfully, his lips brushing against her plump ones. He was about to stake her, his arm blurred, under the ribcage, his path only hindered by soft tissue, straight to her heart—he didn't get it very deep as with a snarl her sclera turned blood-red, veins throbbed under her eyes and her fangs, both canine and lateral incisors, elongated.

Katherine tore into his neck just as the tip pierced into her skin, her razor-sharp fangs slicing through his jugular like butter. His blood gushed between them, over them even as she drank. He growled, tried to throw her off of him, even as he tried to push the stake deeper, but he couldn't get a proper grip on _her_ just her loose robe. The longer she fed, the more she drained him, the weaker he grew. He couldn't afford it. He managed to roll them in a blur of strength, tearing her fangs from his throat, and losing his hold on the stake driven precariously in her back as he sprang off of her, putting distance between them, hand held to the wound on his neck.

"That wasn't very nice, Stefan." She rose on the couch and pulled out the sharpened spoon with a grimace, not even bothering to fix her robe.

"You're not a very nice person," Stefan returned, his own vamp-face on display.

They flew at each other. He managed to grab hold of her arm, the one with the stake trying to plunge into his chest. After a struggle and managing to break one of her fingers, he managed to tear it out of her hand, giving her splinters. She hissed, knocking it out of his hand before he could turn it back on her. Katherine grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and the pendant beneath. He tried to tear her hand away, breaking a couple of the delicate bones in her wrist that healed immediately after, unlike his own injures which were slower. She kept her grip and put half a millennia of vampire-strength behind the slug, he flew clear across to the other side of the room, slamming into the wall, denting it inward. He slumped to the floor with a groan, cheekbone caved in, jaw broken. He reached up with a trembling hand, pushing his jaw back with a soft grunt so it could started to heal.

"Missing something?" she mocked.

He glared at her, his eyes widening and blurring to his feet as he saw the chain necklace dangling from her fingers and the pendant, with a chunk of his shirt in her palm. He didn't even have time to demand what she was doing before she pushed open the sliding glass door and lobbed the dream pendant out into the backward.

"No!" he blurred after it, only to end up slamming into the invisible magical barrier, to her amusement, and stumbled back. "No."

She came up behind him. Even if Katherine wasn't over 500 years old, she drank human blood, she'd drained him, weakening him even further with his animal blood diet. It was inevitable that she got the upper hand and snapped his neck with a vicious twist that nearly tore his head clean off, putting him into a temporary death-state.

...

Stefan awoke carefully with a sore neck, feeling weak, and his skin burning with the scent of vervain. He opened his eyes, chin to his chest, and the first thing he saw were his arms tied to the arms of a chair with vervain soaked rope. Very carefully, hand flat, he tried to pulled his arm back, freeing himself from the rope; there was no give, it just dug deeper into his dissolving skin.

"Mm," he bit his lip, barely holding back the whimper. He had failed—his second and final—attempt to kill his sire. And of course he was trussed up instead of dead. Katherine wasn't going to play nice any longer, he was not going to get a third chance. His only hope would lie with her taking her sweet, painful time with his death, giving his friends time to find him. Either through John Gilbert or that witch, Lucy.

He rose his head instead, looking around. He was set up in the living room, the glass doors closed behind him. He was barely able to hear her soft footsteps as the vampire approached.

"See what you did?" Katherine came from the hall, dressed in jeans and a blouse. She gestured at the couch, "It's all stained with your blood. That's white, Stefan, it'll never come out."

"You think I care about the couch?" he sneered.

"Right now I'm wondering if you care about anything." She remarked genuinely.

"Definitely nothing that comes out of your mouth," he snarked.

"Believe it or not, I was trying to help you, Stefan."

"How has anything you’ve done been _helpful_ to me?" he asked spitefully. "You tore my life apart!"

"Those dreams," she explained, "I was just trying to show you the inevitability of your future with the hunter. Either you'll kill him or he'll kill you. I was trying to make see, to stop you from destroying yourself when you finally slipped, when you broke."

"I could _never_ hurt him like that," Stefan protested around the lump in his throat.

"I've watched you, remember? You always end up breaking, Stefan. Eventually, always. You told me yourself... you turned off your humanity because you thought you killed him, a real death. You almost murdered your own brother. _That_ was exactly what I was trying to prevent. I was showing you—without hurting anyone else—what your future was going to be if you stayed with Saltzman."

Stefan shook his head, glaring at her. "You're wrong."

She sighed and approached. "Fine. Why don't we give this a different approach if you’re going to continue to be so stubborn."

"No!" he snarled, vamp-faced as he struggled helplessly against the vervained ropes, knowing exactly what she intended. She leaned over him, eyes intense as she focused. Stefan could feel her, feel her Power invading his brain. In his weakened state, conscious or not, he was barely able to put up little resistance, before she was fucking with his head.

He saw Alaric and it took his breath away.

His dark-blond hair almost looking gold in the warm, yellow rays of the sun. The smile stretching his lips, reaching his twinkling blue eyes crinkled with laughter—it made him look beautiful and unburdened, ten years younger—as his fingers tangled with Jenna Sommers'. Ric was happy, he was whole, he was alive—he was with Jenna. He was dating Jenna. Marrying Jenna. Loving Jenna. Living life, with Jenna. Having children, with Jenna. A little part of him and a little part of her, living, breathing, growing, conquering the world. Stefan saw snapshots of their whole lives. Careers taking off, grandchildren, retirement. A peaceful death. No vampires, no witches. Just a normal, happy, fulfilled life.

When Katherine released him, his cheeks were soaked with tears as he cried. It was beautiful and it broke his heart. That was everything that Stefan was incapable of giving Alaric. A life, a _true_ life lived. Stefan could love him, but he could never grow old with him, could never have his children or give him children. Could never give him a life without blood, death, and vampires.

"Don't you see, Stefan? You don't have a future. He doesn't want you, doesn't _deserve_ you." She implored him harshly. "He hasn't _seen_ you, Stefan. He doesn't _know_ you, the real you."

"This is the real me!" he screamed at her.

"No!" she snapped, disgusted. "This is the **human** you. This is you, clinging desperately to the past. This is you, living in your own appointed shadow. Humans are insignificant blips in the life of a vampire, yet you cling to them like their lives are important. Do you take such care with the ants under your boot or the animals you feed on?" she grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. "You're a vampire, Stefan. You're strong. You're not a weak human anymore. You are immortal. When are you going to stop lying to yourself? When will you recognize where your true life lies?"

" **I hate you** ," Stefan hissed at her with hate and vehemence.

She released his chin. "You loved me once, Stefan. You can again."

Stefan gave a bitter laugh. "That love was shit. That love was for a lie— _YOU WERE A LIE!_ I didn't know you, just the show you gave me. The same mask you played for everyone. Not the vindictive, spiteful, jealous, manipulator that you truly are."

"I love you, Stefan."

"You keep saying that, but everything you do keeps contradicting that statement."

"I'm not perfect, Stefan. Okay? I was human once and I wasn't perfect and when I turned those imperfections magnified."

"You played with me and Damon like we were toys. Pitted up against each other--"

"I was stupid, Stefan. I was afraid. How you made me feel, I never felt that before. I was scared, you scared me, so I hid. But I never compelled you to love me, that was all you. I only compelled you not to be afraid."

"Did you ever compel Damon?" he challenged.

"No. I didn't have to."

"See? Right there. **_Have_** _to_. You might not have compelled me to love you, but you compelled me to forget about a crucial feeling I felt toward you. I was scared to death of you, but you compelled me not to be afraid. I fell in 'love' because I didn't fear you, and I didn't fear you because you compelled me not to. It wasn't real. It was a manipulation of love. Maybe it could have been real if you had let me fall out of fear of you on my own and fall back in love with you. But you didn't. You manipulated my emotions. **It was never real**."

She starred at him, her eyes wide and burned with unshed tears, her breath hitched. "This, this is why I turned it off. So I wouldn't fool myself into thinking I could love and have love and not get _burned by it_. I can't trust anybody, nobody can be trusted."

He stared at her with pity for only a moment, before his lips curled. "You're wrong. You're just unlovable." He dealt the final, harsh blow. As soon as the snarl left his lips, he knew he'd made a big mistake; he'd let his emotion overwhelm him and it was going to cost him. He could see it in her brown eyes, as the heartbreak melted away, to be frozen over with unfeeling as she flipped her switch.

"Mm," she turned from him, walking over to the wall partition by the kitchen and bent, picking up the blood-stained, wooden spoon stake from the floor.

He watched her carefully as she stroked it teasingly as she slowly circled him. He felt her as his back, waiting with bated breath for to just stake him already(!), but that was too simple, too kind for no humanity Katherine Pierce, or even if she still had her humanity switch on. It was a long moment before he felt the point of the stake pressed with enough pressure to pinch under his jaw and started. She drew it enticingly down his taut throat.

"Remember that time you stabbed me in the back?" her whispered breath was hot as she pressed her face against his cheek and he turned his face away.

A second later the stake withdrew and he let out a shout as she stabbed him in the back through the lattice in the back of the chair in roughly the same spot he had her under the ribcage, but instead of an upward angle toward his heart, her angle was straight and true, just managing to scrape the underside of his lung. The spoon handle was just long enough to almost reach the other side of his torso, but not quite. Stefan could feel it scrape and prick the inside of his skin, with every shuddering breath as he tried to control the pain, moved the wood handle inside him, threatening to break through, but not quiet. The bulb of the serving end wedged against the tight lattice, pinioned him. He clenched his jaw, feeling his fangs bite into his lips as he swallowed the moan of pain and regulated his breathing.

"Well, this is thirsty work," she dusted his shoulders a little roughly, jostling him and to her enjoyment, unable to bite back the whimper this time. "Want some blood, Stefan?"

He didn't turn to watch as she went into the kitchen, but focused on listening to try and mute the pain as she got a fresh glass from the open shelf, went into the fridge for a bag of blood, tore it open and filled the glass. He could immediately discern the scent of the human blood over his own blood and sweat even before she returned. He squeezed his eyes closed as he felt them start to turn, fighting it. He was hurt and he was hungry and he wanted that blood so badly, his predatory survival instinct didn't give a fuck about his abstinence on the matter.

Katherine wouldn't give it to him, it would strengthen him, but she could also give it to him because it would break him, which could also backfire on her because one taste of human blood and he would go Ripper and in this situation, he might just let himself just so he could kill her—and he would, over 500 or not, the Ripper was a true vicious monster.

He opened his eyes to see her standing several feet in front of him, observing him as she casually sipped from the full glass. "I bet you'd be more fun on human blood." He growled low in warning at her, his top lip peeling back and revealing his fangs. "Don't worry, blood monster, that would be too easy." She took a slow, last drink of blood, slowly licking her red lips clean. "No, I have a better idea to keep you occupied and me entertained." She pulled out a small glass vial filled with clear liquid and showed it to him; he knew immediately what it was without her saying: "Liquid vervain, nasty stuff as you know." She carefully untwisted the black cap with her finger and thumb of the same hand, dropping the cap to the floor. He watched as she upended the entire vial into the half-glass of blood in her other hand, the substance spitting a little at the toxic mixture of enemy elements before dropping the empty vial too.

His eyes widened in horror as she approached with the glass of tainted blood; did she mean for him to drink _that_?! "No! Get that away from me!" he instinctively tried to get away, only cry out at the self inflicted pain he caused himself, forcing him to still.

"Not that either," Katherine chided with a smirk, reading him clearly. "Chin up, Stefan. Show me that grand posture," she put her finger under his chin, forcing him to raise it. And then set the base of the glass on his skull. "Don't spill now," her manicure nail nicked his chin on purpose as she released him.

Stefan was taut, his muscled clenched, probably causing himself more pain, but he dare not move now that she released him in fear that unclenching would cause the glass to spill, covering him in human blood and vervain—not a very good combination for him right now. He hardly even allowed himself to breathe.

"Good boy." She started to leave. "That's keep you bust while I run a little errand."

"Where are you going?" he demanded through gritted teeth. "You can't leave me like this!"

Katherine paused and turned back, chuckling. "Like you said: I'm a cruel, vindictive, bitch. So that's what I'm going to do, be cruel and vindictive. I'm going to take your life apart, bit by bit, and your going to be stuck here, waiting, wondering... what I did to your precious, delicate loved ones when I come back, covered in blood."

"Katherine!" he screamed after her as she blurred out the house, slamming the front door. "No, no, no!" he immediately stilled as the glass wobbled precariously on his head for a long, anxious few seconds before it settled.

_"What is she going to do when she realizes you'll never reciprocate?" Alaric asked._

_"She'll kill you. She'll kill Elena. She'll kill everyone I love to make me suffer, show me what it's like to have no one to love me. She'll truly break me. You don't scorn Katherine Pierce and just walk away."_

"What did I do?" he whispered in a broken whisper to himself. "What have I done?"

...

He was covered in sweat, he could feel the shakes in his strained muscles, the cramps. He was in constant pain, constant threat of letting that one spasm overtake him and knock the glass over him. Katherine had been gone for hours now, he couldn't see a clock from here, but the length of the sun shining in through the glass sliding doors behind across the blood stained floor told him.

If he could tip his head just right, he could knock it off without getting any on him. But Katherine had positioned it significantly forward on his head, than that sweet spot nearer his crown; he was more than likely to spill the vervained human blood all over his face. Stefan would be less bothered by the possibility if it was just pure vervain. But he needed to take advantage of her time away, try to get free, _succeed_ in getting free, then lie in wait for when the vampire returned from her ruins.

If he just threw his head back, it would spill on him. If he tipped forward, it would spill on him. He closed his eyes. He would have to do it slow, in increments, somehow shift the glass further back on his skull without spilling, so the glass would simply fall and splatter harmlessly onto the floor and not him.

He carefully shifted his head back, hair by hair, his blunt nails digging to the chair arms as he clenched his hands in stress. He could feel it shift, move, slid against his hair, or his focus on it was so raw it just felt like then when truthfully it was probably just going to spill on him any moment now.

So focused, when the front door opened and there was a thud from the front hall, he started. The glass slipped, he felt the edge bump his crown. "Ah!" he cried out as he felt the vervain spatter against the back of his neck, eating his skin. Stefan arched as he felt some of it go passed his torn loose collar and down his back, pain grinded in his abdomen as he slightly dislodged the wooden spoon, layers of his skin stripped away as he pulled against the soaked ropes. The wounds caused by the vervain down his neck and upper back responded to the blood, encouraged to heal, only for the vervain to burn him again in a painful cycle. He was stuck in a momentary pain-fog until Katherine came in and he scented a fresher aroma of human blood, the smell familiar enough and frightening enough to snap his attention to the limp body the petite vampire was dragging behind her.

"No!" Stefan gasped. "What are you doing?" his eyes glued to the senseless teacher on the floor at her feet. "Nonono," he could see the bloodstains on Alaric's shirt, the wound on his head to be deep and too bloody to be anything but fatal. He focused his hearing, but that strong, beautiful heartbeat was absent.

"I thought this would be more fun," Katherine told him. "A live show. What do you think? This is your fault, after all. You brought this on yourself, upon him." She crouched behind Alaric's shoulder, she reached out and stroked a clear patch of his stubble, careful of his vervain-laced blood covering most of his face.

"Get away from him!" Stefan hissed desperately.

"I know you have a weakness for blue-eyed, blond men and it's hard not to get jealous even though you love us brown-eyed, brunettes." She glanced up at the other brunette. "I was even gonna be generous, Stefan. Let you keep him as a concubine to keep you happy. I was willing to do that for you, Stefan. Because I cared, because I loved." She rose to her feet. "Because that's what you do for the people you love; you're the one who taught me that. But you're also not who I thought you were," she whispered harshly to him.

Stefan hardly paid her attention, his green gaze sharp focused on the man as his ears instantly picked up that beautiful beating rhythm in the man's chest. Both delirious with happiness and weighed with dread for the moment the man opened those blue eyes.

Alaric gave a low groan, his skull throbbing. The last thing he remembered was seeing Elena—only it _wasn't_ Elena, but by then the realization was useless. He opened his eyes and the first thing his cleared vision landed on was a concerned-looking, bloodied Stefan, bound to a chair. "Stefan!"

Alaric tried to get to him, but Katherine blurred to stand between them just as he was about to touch the vampire, kicking the teacher viciously in the torso, the force flipping the man onto his back with a couple broken ribs. Alaric wrapped his arms around his ribs, groaning.

"Don't touch him!" Stefan snarled at her, thrashing in the chair, hardly feeling the pain for his anger.

"I'm okay, Stefan. I'm okay." Alaric tried to reassure the vampire. But there was no assurance of that as long as Katherine still had her undead heart in her chest and them at her mercy.

"I tried playing nice, Stefan." She said. "I didn't kill any of your friends—with the exception of lover boy down here. Though I'm pretty sure it doesn't really count, seeing as he keeps coming back for more. A sucker for punishment, aren't you, Ric?"

"Just so I can kill you one of these times, lady." Alaric glared and Katherine just smiled.

"That anger of yours, is going to be beautiful." She blurred to him, grabbed his right arm before he could fight her, dislocated his elbow as he cried out in pain, and broke his right ring finger as she pulled the magic Gilbert ring off.

"Put that back!" Stefan ordered, pulling useless against the ropes. Why couldn't he be stronger?

She left Alaric clutching his arm in pain and approached Stefan. "This is yours now, a little engagement of sorts." She slid the ring on his left hand, onto his ring finger.

"Katherine, what are you doing?!" he demanded.

"Do you, Stefan Salvatore, take Ric to be man you shall never see again?" she didn't wait for his answer before looking to the teacher, "And, do you, Alaric Saltzman, take Stefan to be the vampire you will never be with again?"

"Have you got a screw loose?" Alaric questioned, meeting Stefan gaze.

"I now pronounce you..." her fangs tore into her wrist and she blurred to Alaric, stuffing her bleeding wrist to his mouth before either could react, forcing to dirty-blond to drink. When she pulled her wrist free, he chocked and spat, but it was too late. "Separated forever. I may kill the groom," Katherine quickly straddled Alaric's chest, her small hands wrapping powerfully around his delicate neck and squeezed.

Stefan started thrashing in the chair, no more fucking around. The chair rocked and thumped, but would not break. He toppled over onto his side, the wood cracking, but not breaking, the wooden spoon in his back tearing through his soft and vulnerable insides. "No!" he screamed, "No! Ric!" he pulled and tugged desperately against the restraints. He could hear cracking and was horrified to realize that it Alaric's windpipe being crushed.

The struggle Alaric had put up, already injured, quickly faltered and faded as she squeezed the life out of him. His arms fell limp as his sides, his last living breath was squeezed harshly from him. He lay dead, his heart stopped forever this time, that beautiful music cut off too soon. He would come back again, this last time and if he chose to feed, his heart would hum the tune of the undead.

"No!" Stefan sobbed, staring at his boyfriend helplessly. "No."

Katherine crawled over to him, her chest panting lightly. "Don't worry, Stefan." She murmured, caressing his cheek. "I'll take good care of him."

"Argh!" Stefan roared, tearing the armrest from the chair—just as her hand plunged into his chest and grabbed his undead heart. He sucked in a choked breath, his mouth open as he stilled under her.

He could feel it, the slivers she'd never taken from her palm, for just this very moment, for just this outcome. She would hold Stefan Salvatore's heart in her hand; he could have given it to her willingly, but he had made her come and take it herself.

Alaric lay hidden, prone behind her. The last thing he would see was her eyes in this life, as he started to slowly desiccate. This could not be his end, he could not be the reason Alaric's life was taken away from him, ruined--

And then the most harsh, piercing pain was exploding from his within his brain and he was screaming, and Katherine was screaming, he thought he heard Alaric screaming too, before Stefan knew nothing of this world anymore, this life.

tbc...

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that about wraps up the story, folks... joking.   
> Please, don't be afraid to fav and comment and wait for an update. This story isn't quiet done yet.


	10. CHAPTER 9: Interlude 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this now to help put you all out of your misery, but don't expect the next chapter to be posted so promptly. :)  
> Tissue Advisory.

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

"Damon!"

Bonnie glared at her best-friend's evil look-alike, refusing to let the tears escape and let the bitch revel in her grief. Instead, stoked the fire of hatred for this vampire and concentrated on keeping the strong monster pinned against the wall with the force of her magic without the help of the Gilbert device to weaken the vampire any longer.

She'd never really used her magic physically like this, or for an extended period of time. It was exhausting, but her fury and sorrow strengthened her resolve.

"Is this it?" Katherine mocked, blood still dripping from her ears and nose, her eyes bloodshot as her body was slower to heal from magical harm. "Are you all I have to look forward to, the wannabe Bennett witch?"

"Shut your mouth, you bitch!" Bonnie hissed and in an act of viciousness she'd never felt cause to feel until now, focused her essence in a small pocket and Katherine gave a cry of surprise and pain as the witch broke her collarbone, the splintered bone poking through the skin.

"You got her?" Damon blurred into the living room, blood staining his upper lip.

"I got her." Bonnie whispered.

They didn't know the range of the completed Gilbert device, only that its magic could incapacitate a vampire, so Damon was forced away, leaving Bonnie as sole infiltrator into the house as long as the device ran. But even 2 blocks away, he'd felt it. It had him on the ground, doubled over in pain, he'd almost blacked out from its power, shouting in pain. His speed seemed to be on the fritz, going in and out, that was why it took his a bit longer to get here.

His sharp gaze took in the room instantly, his gaze sliding over Alaric's prone body, flickering to Bonnie's eyes in assurance, only to stutter at the sorrow, ignoring Katherine altogether—and finally landing on his inert brother. "No no no," Damon blurred to Stefan on his knees, focus skirting in denial as he broke his brother from the restraints, not even reacting to the burn of vervain; pulled the wooden spoon that skewered him through the back of the chair and laid him out on the floor.

"Stefan," he whispered, forced to face the true reality of it as he met his brother's open, unfocused, unseeing forest green eyes. His fingers were like the caress of a feather against Stefan's cold, grey cheek, the desiccated veins raised to the surface. His gaze travelled down over the blood-stained skin, to his torn shirt and the gory hole in his chest.

"Damon?" Bonnie's voiced cracked, breath shuddering. But she already knew the answer.

Katherine was watching Damon's back, a tiny smirk at her lips. His head hung and his shoulders trembled. "Are you crying?"

A tear finally broke free of Bonnie's lashes and trailed down her cheek. Her aloft hand slowly tightened as she gritted her teeth. The magic pinning Katherine tightened, the vampire gasped as the witch was intent of simply _crushing_ her from existence.

"You ugly fucking bitch," Damon hissed. He blurred to her, his hand around her delicate throat, squeezing and Bonnie sucked in a breath, releasing her own crushing hold, but still immobilizing the vampire. Damon's fingers were clawed, piercing Katherine's flesh, but she still smirked as she chocked on her own blood, seeing the turmoil, helplessness, and anger in his beautiful blue eyes.

"Poor, sweet, heroic Stefan." She mocked, blood bubbling at her lips. "He died with a broken heart. It was beautiful, watching his soul shatter through those lovely, expressive green eyes he _had_. Knowing that I had taken that from him, felt him die in my hand--"

Damon slammed her. "His heart's still in his chest."

Bonnie's gaze was drawn from the vampire's smirking face, down to her bloodied hand as it clenched into a fist. "Her hand,"

He glanced down at the brunette's side, to the bloodied fist that murdered his little brother. He grasped her wrist, the pressure of his grip crushing the bones in her wrist and making her grimace as he rose it. He released her neck, he didn't bother asking, he just pried her thumb back until the digit gave and broke.

"I could have given him everything." She told him as Damon started on her index finger, breaking it at each joint, three successive crack-pops that made her grunt at the sharp pain. "He only had to give me the one thing I asked for." He broke her middle finger the same. "But he was selfish so I took it from him instead," her ring finger. "And now... he can't give it to anyone anymore." She grinned, even as Damon broke her pinkie sideways so it lay against the edge of her palm. And even as her hands tried to heal itself, there was one piece that never could, not with a mortal element embedded beneath the skin of her palm.

"You put splinters in his heart," he uttered.

"I just gave the metaphorical favour into a more literal return,"

Damon's fangs flashed and he snarled at her, his hand plunging into her chest without warning, fingers clawed around her undead heart. She gasped, strained. "You can rot in Hell, alone and unloved for all of eternity, Katerina Petrova."

Bonnie barely stopped herself from flinching back at the crunching sound as Damon jerked his arm back and tore her undead heart from her chest. She watched the vampire dry out and desiccate, her true-face fading, a mirror image of Stefan, pinioned by an invisible force to the wall like a butterfly on display. There was a terrible squelching sound as the raven vampire squeezed his fist, turning her heart into a gory pulp before dropping it carelessly on the floor.

The witch just stared for a blank moment before she exhaled, releasing her magical hold and stumbling back a step. Damon stepped out of the way as Katherine crumpled to the floor. But he wasn't finished yet. Putting a boot to her chest, he grabbed her under the ears, and with a roar, his vamp-face flashing—he tore his sire's head from her shoulders.

Bonnie turned away, one hand to her stomach, the other to her mouth, gagging.

"Ding dong." Damon's voice was toneless. "The bitch is dead." Wiping his hand clean, he crouched by his brother. "I'm so sorry, Stefan." He gently scooped him into arms and carried him from the house; he wouldn't allow that bitch to be near him a moment longer, dead or not. He laid Stefan in the backseat of his car, pressing his lips to the grey forehead before he closed the door. He came back into the house to find Bonnie kneeling worriedly at Alaric's side.

"He doesn't have his ring," she looked up, holding the dirty-blond's right hand. "But he reacted to the Gilbert device."

"He's in transition," Damon hauled the man up, throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman's hold. "She took his ring, feed him her blood, and killed him in front of Stefan. She broke him by dooming the man that he loved." He turned his gaze from Bonnie's trembling hues, to the corpse on the floor. "Burn her, Bonnie. Burn her to Hell. Burn her from existence."

Bonnie nodded, firm-lipped as she turned to the body, Damon leaving to put Alaric in the car as well. The witch focused, chanting. A flame burst into existence of the vampire's body, and quickly caught, consuming. Bonnie watched for a moment before slowly backing away, chanting harder, faster—the flames grew, spread, crawled up the wall, spread across the floor, the vampire blood catching and fuelling the fire like an accelerant. She was about to leave as the flames started to lick across the roof of the front hall, when she noticed the things by the door—Stefan's things. His jacket, his buckled boots, his wallet on the table. She quickly grabbed it all into her arms, slamming the from door as the flames reached for her. Scrambling backward, she chanted a containment spell that would keep the fire from spreading to the neighbours in the closing day.

She crossed the street to where their cars were, pressing her nose into the collar of Stefan's jacket. It smelled like him; the woods, parchment, a faint peppermint. Fresh tears clouded her eyes. Her gaze was jerked up as Damon slammed the driver's side door.

"Hey, where are you going?"

He just shook his head, the engine turning over and tires squealing as he sped away. She stared after them. Damon was leaving it to her to break to Elena (who had only stayed away because Damon had literally locked her down in the cellar at the Boarding House) that Stefan was dead and Alaric was in transition of becoming a vampire. She couldn't blame him, he just lost his brother, he wouldn't have the capacity to deal with Elena's grief.

Bonnie quickly got into her Prius as she heard sirens in the distance, the fire finally noticed by the neighbours as the roof caved in under the magically influenced fire, carefully setting Stefan's belongings in the passenger seat.

...

Damon didn't return to the Boarding House. Instead, he let emotion drive him and he ended up at the quarry. This was one of the brothers' favoured places, he had such fond memories of this place in his childhood, growing up with Stefan. With exception for that one night when Damon had vowed to give Stefan an eternity of misery.

Damon picked his brother up in his arms and carried him to the water, carefully laying Stefan on the long, soft grass bed with a clear view of the darkening evening sky. He just wanted to collapse alongside his brother, but he knew Stefan would be more comforted with Alaric laying by him, too, so he went back to the car and dragged Alaric's limp body next to Stefan's, then laid on his other side. His baby brother was dead, it was something he could not fathom, not after 145 years of him being virtually immortal. Not after everything they had been through to finally get to this point in their relationship.

He heard Alaric's heartbeat moments before the man woke up. It would continue to beat for about the next 24 hours, weakening with each hour if he didn’t drink human blood to complete the transition to a full vampire, until he faded into darkness and death.

Alaric bolted upright with a startled shout, hand going to his throat with wide eyes. He should be dead, he should-- he quickly looked at his right hand, his finger absent the Gilbert ring. "No," he wasn't alive, he wasn’t dead either, he was in transition. Katherine fed him her blood, then killed him. "Stefan." He finally noticed in confusion his change of surrounding, then noticed the two brothers at his side. Stefan was prone, but Damon was looking at him with an emotionless mask, his eyes seeming too wide, too raw in the fading light. "No." He said again, shifting to the still teenager. Alaric put a hand on his sternum, but his chest didn't rise. His chest... with abstract horror, his hand shifted to the dark, gapping wound in Stefan chest. "No!" he grabbed the vampires face, lifting it and he made a strangled sound in his throat at the lifeless eyes that stared back; they were just empty, there was no love or teasing or laughter or care. "Stefan," he choked, tears dripping from his eyes and onto the teen's grey skin, to run down the sides of his cheeks like Stefan was shedding tears, too. " _You_ were supposed to rip her heart out, not the other way around."

Alaric bowed over the brunette, resting their foreheads together, his eyes closed. His body thrummed, he felt gutted, his muscles sore. His jaw ached like he'd had a root canal without any morphine. _I'm sorry. I was there and I didn't help you. I'm supposed to be a vampire hunter and I couldn't kill the one vampire that needed killing._ He pressed his lips to Stefan's before he rose his head, and thumbed Stefan's cheeks dry from his tears. He looked over at the other vampire.

Damon pulled his knees to his chest like he was a child. He remember what it was like without Stefan, he could not take that now. He was aimless, he'd lost his only family, his only brother of the past 162 years of his life. He'd only had seven years of his life where Stefan hadn't been alive, hadn't been born yet—they were insignificant, forgettable. His life only truly started when his baby brother came into it.

"I vowed to this pink, wriggling being that I would take care him." Damon spoke out into the water, pulling his brother’s cold, limp, right hand into his lap, "I'd only just met him, but it felt like I'd known him my entire life. The second he blinked those forest green doe-eyes at me, there was no doubt to me that he was the thing, _the_ person, that I would love most in this shitty world.

"I just had to do one thing, one thing right... keep him safe, keep him alive and I couldn't even do that. Dear Drunk Daddy was right... my existence held no value if I couldn't do that _one damn thing_ right!" he shouted it despairingly into the falls. "I had all this time, by some miracle, I was given this extra time and I did nothing but use it to hurt him. My baby brother, whose only fault was having me for a big brother and finding it in that big heart of his to love me anyway. I destroyed him--"

"You didn't--" Alaric whispered.

Damon’s head snapped to him, his blue eyes bright with tears. "What do you know?" he snarled. "You've known him for a month. Your just some fucking... asshole that he gave his heart to and would blame himself for what happened to you because he would think if he'd never met you, this never would have happened." He turned to Stefan, "You're a real fucking martyr now, aren't you? This is your wish fulfillment finally come to pass, huh, Saint Stefan? You fucking selfish bastard!" he grabbed fistfuls of the already torn and bloodied shirt, shaking his brother. "I told you to get your ass home, Stefan. Why didn't you come home, baby brother? Why?" he howled his anger, his frustration, his anguish.

"I can't do it without you, Stefan." He didn't want to, he couldn't face it, not without knowing that his baby brother wasn't somewhere out in the world, stalking hapless bunnies and writing in his millionth journal to date. They were supposed to go together, that had been the deal all that time ago, hadn't it? But Stefan had pulled them toward the living, had changed the rules. "We were supposed to have an eternity together, you can't just go back on your word now."

He looked up, almost startled as Alaric grabbed a fistful of the material of his jacket, like an anchor, his blue eyes mirrored the vampire's. "Tell me you killed her, Damon. Tell me you fucking ripped her heart out. That she didn't get away with breaking and killing the kindest, strongest man we know. Can you tell me that?"

"Yes," Damon told him firmly. "I ripped that bitch's heart out and crushed it in my hand until it was nothing more than a bloody clump of papier-mâché. I tore her head from her shoulders and Bonnie burned her from existence, burned that entire place to the ground."

Alaric gave a short nod. "I was there. He was alive and I was there and I was useless. I only caused him more pain, more suffering before she killed him. Fuck, Damon. I'm so sorry, man."

Damon looked at him. "You're not going to complete the transition, are you?"

Alaric looked at him in surprise. "You think I should?" Damon didn't answer and Alaric looked down at Stefan. "I told him that I didn't think I could be a vampire, that I wanted it, couldn’t even contemplate it, but I wanted to be with him. But he still wanted to be together,"

"Sounds like him," Damon murmured wryly.

"He told me once that he wouldn't wish vampirism on anyone, that he wish he'd known that before it was too late, before he killed your father, made you complete the transition. But if Stefan were alive... I would fucking take it with both hands. But without him," he shook his head. "I know how this sounds—we've only been together officially for 2 weeks—but love doesn't have bounds, it can't be confined—I would do it for him, but why the fuck would I want to do this shit without him?"

Damon stared at his brother. "Yeah."

"Why are we out here?" Alaric finally asked quietly. "Why aren't we back at the Boarding House?"

He looked up into the sky. "It felt right. We began here, it only seemed right to end it here." He sat back and there was silence between enough for the sun to finally set, the sky to darken and the full moon and stars to reveal themselves.

Alaric suddenly perked up from where he was allowing himself to simply, silently, slowly fade away. His heart felt heavy and slow in his chest, even as senses were bright, like a constant surge of adrenaline making him antsy. "Christ," Alaric inhaled deeply, his mouth watering at the alluring scent, "Is that--?"

"Blood." Damon blurred to his feet, facing the direction of wood. Someone was coming.

Bonnie came into view with the moonlight from the shadows of the trees, her chest was heaving, the scent of blood thick. She looked manic tramping through the underbrush toward them. He reached out to steady her as she seemed to stumble, but to his confusion, she dodged him, her expression intent—and tackled Alaric instead.

"Bo-- Mmph!" Alaric was cut off in surprise as the witch shoved her bloodied wrist into his mouth. He swallowed the mouthful of her hot delicious blood involuntarily. The pain in his gums intensified acutely and his new fangs snapped down in relief. He grabbed her arm and she grimaced as his fangs pierced her delicate skin, but let him drink, watching his face transform with his complete transition into a full vampire with the link of her blood.

"What the hell, Bonnie!" Damon managed to tear them apart, pulling the teenager away and leaving the new vampire on the ground, putting himself between the 2 as he kept a wary eye on the bampi and quickly shoved his own bloodied wrist against the witch's mouth, making her drink and heal.

Alaric licked his lips and chin clean of blood, relishing the delicious taste, his thirst both quenched and awakened at once. He sucked the blood from his teeth, all the previous pain vanished; he felt like he was 20 again, and then his tongue traced his fang, his eyes snapping open and returning to their normal blue with horror. "What did you do?" he shouted at Bonnie, jumping to his feet and startled to find it happen in a blink.

"Saving your life," she wiped Damon's blood from her lips with a grimace.

"You turned me!" he snarled in anger, his fangs snapping at her. She took an involuntary step back, but Damon already had the teacher on the ground before it was necessary.

"Calm down!" he growled, his own fangs free, shoving the dirty-blond into the ground as he instinctively fought back. "Ric!" he snapped.

At the sound of him name, Alaric just seemed to drain. Damon rarely called him by his real name, let alone his preferred abbreviation. "She turned me, Damon," he uttered in shock. "I'm vampire. I can't be a vampire."

"I know... You good?" he asked.

Alaric was quiet for a moment, panting. "I don't know. Yeah, I guess."

Damon didn't look convinced but he climbed back to his feet, watching the dirty-blond roll onto his back and sit up, but move no further than that, looking a bit shell-shocked. "Want to explain what the you think you're doing?!" The raven vampire spun on the witch, who was kneeling by Stefan's left shoulder.

"Saving their lives," she answered.

"Stefan's dead, Bonnie." He told her harshly. "There's no coming back from that. He's gone!"

"You're wrong!" she stroked Stefan’s mussed bangs from his forehead. "I can bring him back."

"What are you talking about?" he grabbed her shoulder.

Bonnie looked up at him. "I communed with Emily," she said. "She told me how, she's going to help me bring him back from the Other Side."

Damon released her but scoffed in disbelief. "Just like that, she's gonna help us bring back Stefan. I thought that was against balance of nature that you witches are so obsessed about?"

"It is... but Stefan's different."

"What do you mean?" Alaric crawled over to Stefan's legs.

"Emily said," she looked between the two men, "She said that Stefan is special, like Elena is special."

"You mean, he's a doppelganger, too?" Alaric glanced up at Damon, who just shrugged in confusion.

Bonnie nodded. "He existence, his birth, it was a supernatural occurrence. Shadow-selves were created to keep nature's balance since the beginning. His blood, his human blood, holds magical properties that the dark magic of vampirism neutralized. That's what I’ll draw on. I can bring him back, Damon! Are you really going to stop me?"

"No." Damon whispered. "Do it, Bonnie."

Bonnie nodded and turned her attention back to Stefan. "The Gilbert Ring, created by Emily's magic, it's her link to him and by turn my link." She moved his left hand to rest on his abdomen, grasping his ringed hand tightly; her other hand over the open wound of his heart. Inhaling deeply, closing her eyes, she focused her magic and started a low chant.

She drew from the magic in her blood, from the earth beneath her, the air that surrounding them. She channelled her powerful ancestor’s magic, through the link of the ring, through herself and back into the brunette.

Alaric and Damon stared, gazes transfixed on the still, grey body of the man they loved, both in different ways, but neither less powerfully. And then, as Bonnie felt warm blood dribble from her nostril in exertion as she harnessed and used more magic than she was used to, water started to bubble and leak from Stefan's mouth.

"Stop!" Damon told her in fear, watching as water continued to spill from Stefan's lips, but was frozen to the spot.

But Bonnie didn't stop, she chanted harder, more powerfully, drawing deep into her magic, her voice and essence swarming with her Emily’s on the Other Side, around Stefan, drawing him here, from there—anchoring him.

tbc...

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, Bonnie's bringing Stefan back from the dead, where could this be going, I wonder *devious smirk*. Anyway what did you think of the Dalaric grief-bonding moment? I kept crying while I was writing it, 3 friggin nights people! What about you, did you tear up, too?


	11. CHAPTER 10

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Stefan woke up into his afterlife in the place his human life had ended; in the Mystic Falls wood, on a now overgrown carriage path, killed by his father and at his brother's side. It was disorienting and he felt himself checking for a gunshot wound for a moment instead of the hole where his heart was supposed to be—to both his relief and concern, he found neither. His clothes were clean and whole, not a mark on them, same as his chest.

Everything was the same, but different. It was like the world was washed-out, like he had a film over his eyes. He wasn't fully understanding or accepting, and he blurred through the entire town, looking for Damon, Alaric, Bonnie, Elena—anyone, but there was no one, no people, no animals, no life. It was disserted, a Ghost Town with only him as the sole occupant. He even searched neighbouring counties, but it was the same.

He was really dead.

He found himself back in the woods, on the cliff that overlooked the quarry. He and Damon used to dare the other to dive off when they were teenagers. Stefan had never been able to do it, not until Damon joined the Confederate Army when he was 16 and they spent their last day together before Damon shipped out, to show his big brother that he didn't have to worry, Stefan could be brave too.

Stefan dropped to his knees, slumping to the ground, his new reality a suffocating blanket wrapped around him tightly. He was dead and he was utterly alone. It seemed fitting, 145 years in coming. He'd cursed Damon with an undead life because he couldn't be without his brother, couldn't go it alone. He was always braver with Damon than without.

Maybe if Alaric decided to complete the transition, he and Damon could take care of each other, look out for each other. Even though he could never know that real truth of it, Stefan found the thought comforting anyway.

Katherine had only done it to punish Stefan, he was to blame for this. All of it. Katherine was only here because of him, and whether that was the real truth of it, he didn't think he would ever truly know, but she had wanted him, he refused, broke her heart that he hadn't even realized she actually possessed until she flipped her switch.

He whimpered, arms wrapped around his middle, doubled over. It wasn't because he was dead, that should have happened back in 1864 with Damon, but because he could never _know_. Had Damon, Bonnie, and Elena managed to kill Katherine? Would Alaric fade into death like he should have let Damon and himself? He hoped someone remembered to feed Salvatore.

"Stefan."

Stefan's head snapped up and he fell back in shock, looking up at one of the last people he ever expected to see. "Emily," Stefan said in surprise, startled to see the dead witch and further confused and frightened.

"Yes."

Stefan blurred to his feet and wrapped her in a desperate, relieved hug. She was solid and real against his chest. He realized this was the most intimate he had even been with the witch and reluctantly released her, taking a sheepish step back. "You're here. How?" he wondered.

"Witches have the power and influence to move around the Other Side, it is how the balance is kept." She answered. "I am sad to see you here, Stefan."

"Katherine killed me."

She nodded. "I am aware."

"I didn't expect to see you," he returned. "I thought, after you destroyed the pendant to stop Damon from opening the tomb that you..." he waved his hand in mild confusion.

She gave him a look of amusement. "Soon,"

There was silence and she just patiently watched him, Stefan fought the urge to squirm. This had to be the oddest thing to have happened to him. Here he was, dead, talking to a dead witch, in the afterlife.

"I'm sorry," Stefan suddenly blurted.

"Why?" she titled her head in confusion.

"You died because of me." He swallowed. "I killed Jonathan Gilbert, but he came back and he burned you at the stake."

"My death had nothing to do with you, Stefan." She corrected him. "I was the one that gave Mr Gilbert the power that he needed that lead to my death."

"Your magic is what saved him and he used that gift to hurt you."

"The world is not fair. We all pave our own paths and whether that leads to our future or our demise, is up to us."

"I don't want to sound rude or ungrateful, but... _why_ are you here?"

"I spoke with Bonnie."

Stefan straightened. "You did? Does that mean she's okay? Everyone else? Alaric, he--"

She rose a hand and silenced him. "They are all right, you will see them soon."

"But you said they were okay!" he panicked.

"Yes."

"But--"

"Come with me," Emily told him. Stefan followed in a bit of shock. She stopped near the edge of the cliff, the narrow falls several feet from them. He looked out across the water and though he saw something, maybe someone lying on the shore. "Face me,"

Stefan immediately responded to her quiet authority, turning to face her behind him, his back to the quarry. He tried look over his shoulder at the shore again but his attention was redrawn as he felt the warmth of her palm as she laid it on the bare space of his chest over his dead heart through the tear in his shirt hadn't been there a moment ago.

"You are a good man, Stefan Salvatore. I have faith that the path ahead of you is a fair one. You had done your fair share of pain and suffering onto others but as you know, you take their pain as your own, you seek redemption. You are all the good to the beast you were born to emulate and be punished for."

"I don't understand," he confessed.

She gaze him no verbal response and instead, he felt the magic suddenly gather around her, pulled from the very air. He could feel it. It built up, seized him. She said nothing, but for a moment, he thought he heard Bonnie's voice echo through the woods before there was such an incredible pain through his chest. He grunted, strained, his hand wrapping around her wrist, not trying to tear it from him, though he didn't think he could if he tried, but to tether himself.

Emily didn't grant him reprieve, didn't accept his resistance. "Take care, Stefan Salvatore." The magic sang through his pores, revived his blood with lightening snaps. It blew him off his feet, her wrist slipping from his hand, and over the cliff edge.

"Emily?!" he screamed in confusion and fear. He watched her figure vanish in a splash of warm light, before he hit the surface, dark water closing overhead. He tried to swim to the surface, but it was like some invisible force was dragging him down. His breath escaped him, water took its place. Frozen water that seized his lungs, darkness closed at him, clawing at his throat, at the water. He was drowning! He didn't understand, he was dead, he couldn’t die again. But just as soon, he was clawing up the shore, grabbing desperately at the socked foot in front of him--

...

Stefan sputtered, spitting up a fountain of metallic tasting water, on the cold ground as his lungs heaved to expel the unwanted material from his body. There were multiple hands, multiple voices all colliding as he was forced on his side, coughing and hacking what seemed endless amounts of cold water, his vision blurry, a fog in his head.

He lay there, heaving, feeling weak and shaky. His throat burning, his chest burning, his lungs burning. Everything ached and suddenly the hands were too much! He growled his displeasure, shoving the endless hands away, somehow managing to stumbled to his socked feet in the flattened grass amid protests, hand to his head, hand to his chest.

"What's going on?" he croaked, trying to clear his eyes, head darting in confusion. His clothes were bone-dry but for the water he'd spit up over himself, which confused him more. Hadn't he been drowning? But that didn't make sense. He shook his head and pushed it away for now as his vision cleared. The first clear sight he had in the moonlight was the witch. "Bonnie?" she nodded, watching him carefully. And then Damon came into focus, his expression unreadable. Stefan's eyes widened, "Ric?!"

"Right here," came the whisper behind him. Stefan spun around too fast for his body and stumbled, Alaric quickly reached out and steadied him, keeping the teen in his arms. "Hey."

Stefan reached up with trembling hands, tears burning his eyes. "I don't-- I thought-- you--" he stopped as his gaze caught the ring on his left ring finger—the Gilbert ring. He felt bile in his throat as it crashed on him. "No," he choked. "No!" his knees gave and he would have fallen to the ground had Alaric not tightened his hold, pressing him to his chest.

"I'm okay," he hushed. "It's okay."

"No!" he moaned. "She feed you her blood, she killed you. She--" his eyes widened and he suddenly shoved the dirty-blond away with strength he shouldn't have possessed, somehow managed to stay upright himself, his breath heaving as he suddenly scrambled at his chest. "She took my heart!" but his chest was whole, pale skin smeared in dried blood. It felt like he was sucking in breath through a pinhole, feeling dizzy.

Another pair of hands caught him this time as he wavered, slowly lowering him to the ground. "Easy," Damon said.

"I think he's in shock," Bonnie said.

"I would be too," he said drily, quickly stripping from his black leather jacket and wrapping it around his brother's shoulders. "Just breathe, Stef."

"I don't understand," the brunette confessed, staring at his brother's pale face looking dim in the moonlight crouched next to him. "She had my heart in her hand, she had it, Damon. I was dead. Are you dead, too?"

"We're alive, or as alive as vampires can be." Damon assured. "Bonnie brought you back, but she never got your heart, Stefan." He took his brother's hand and pressed his palm to his chest through the tear in his shirt. "That's right here. Safe and sound where it should be."

Stefan nodded along to his brother's words, calming even though he didn't quite comprehend all of what he was saying, only to let out an exclaim as he felt movement beneath his palm. "What was that?" he cried in confusion.

"Don't freak out," Damon ordered.

"I feel weird. I feel wrong. What happened to me?"

"You're perfectly fine--"

Stefan shook his head. "Something's wrong, I don't feel right."

"Stefan, hey." His focus was suddenly turned as he felt warm hands on his chilled face and his attention was on Bonnie, kneeling at his side. "I know this is confusing, I know you're really freaked out right now. But I need you to focus and breathe, okay?" Stefan nodded, breathing slow, if jerky breaths as he looked into her calm chocolate gaze. "Good. By the time Damon and I found you, Alaric was already in transition and you were dead."

"She had slivers in her hand," he whispered, remembering.

Bonnie nodded. "Damon killed Katherine."

"She's gone?" he gave a shaky exhale.

"Forever." She agreed. "But you were dead," unshed tears pricked her eyes in remembrance. "And that was unacceptable. So, with Emily's help, I brought you back from the Other Side. And here you are,"

"You brought me back," he whispered in awe.

Bonnie gave a watery chuckle. "Yeah. Alive, whole... and human."

"What?" he couldn't have heard her right.

"Human, Stefan. This, right here?" she put her palm to his chest. "What you felt, was your heartbeat."

Stefan looked down at her hand on his chest, moving with his breaths. He held his breath and her hand stopped moving. He held his breath and it was almost 30 second before he started to feel the strain on his still recovering lungs. He held his breath and as it neared 1 minute, he started to hear his heart thumping behind his ribcage. He held his breath and he realized the truth. And then he couldn't hold it anymore and he gasped, sucking in gulps of much needed air. He breathed and he had a heartbeat in his chest to keep him _living_... and it was **wrong**.

_No._ He looked over Bonnie's head at Alaric who was the farthest away and the one Stefan wanted the closest. He was keeping his distance because he was a vampire now and Stefan was human. Stefan took Bonnie's wrist and gently pulled her hand from his chest, and clambered to his feet, Damon's jacket falling off his shoulders. He approached Alaric carefully, for each of them, stopping in a patch of frozen damp earth, several feet separating them but it felt like a chasm as the newly turned vampire held himself very still, taut, chest unmoving.

Stefan wanted to throw himself at the teacher, wrap him in his arms, safe, never let him go; beg him for forgiveness for putting this curse at his feet and taking a beating heart for himself.

Alaric must have seen it clearly on his face with his new sharp, keen sight, while Stefan could hardly seem to make his out in the night, despite the full moon. "You didn't do anything, Stefan." He promised, but the assertion of blamelessness rang something else in the teenager.

Stefan inhaled sharply. ' _You didn't_ **do anything** _, Stefan'._ It cut into his heart severely. "I know," he whispered, giving a wan smile. _I couldn't do anything. I wasn't strong enough. And now I'm even more useless than before._ "I thought you should have this," he twisted the daylight ring from his right middle finger, "You have more use from it now than I do." He took Alaric's hand and slid the old ring back onto his middle finger to replace the other. Stefan pressed his lips to his knuckles and Alaric's fingers silently tightened before they released.

"Come on, Stefan." Damon spoke quietly behind him, holding open his jacket. "Put this on and let's get back home."

"Okay," Stefan whispered, tearing his gaze from Alaric's shadowed face and put his chilled arms through the sleeves, Damon pulling it up around his shoulders. When the teen fumbled with the zipper, his brother zipped it patiently for him like he always ended up fixing the buttons on his jacket when they were kids, despite that being what the nanny was for.

They hadn't even made it to the path in the trees before Stefan stepped on a small stone and yelped, hopping.

"I have your boots in my car," Bonnie remembered.

"And you didn't think to bring them?" Damon said.

"I was a little busy bringing him back to life, that was a little more important at the moment."

Damon just sighed. He gave his back to his brother. "Come on, get on."

Stefan felt an abundance of warm blood flood his face. "What?"

"Stefan, just get on my back. I'm not gonna say it again."

Stefan put his hands on his brother's shoulders and hopped onto his strong back. Damon's hands were secure under his knees and Stefan wrapped his arm loosely around the vampires neck, resting tiredly against him. "Thank you," he whispered.

Damon just nodded. It was so odd to feel his little brother's _heartbeat_ thump against his back. The vampire's steps were sure on the darkened path, his vision clear; Bonnie followed close behind and Alaric farther still, like a silent ghost.

"The last time we did was, I was 12." Stefan quietly.

"Yeah, well," Damon said mildly, "I'm not neighing for you." The brunette gave a huff of laughter as they reached the cars.

Damon set him down by the passenger door of his Camaro and Bonnie quickly retrieved his boots from her Prius. Stefan sat on the edge of the seat and peeled his wet, muddy socks from his frozen feet, slipping his bare feet into his boots; Bonnie must have rescued them from the house. Alaric drove with Bonnie, following the Camaro back to the Boarding House and Elena.

"How did Alaric turn?" Stefan finally asked one of the questions that had been eating him.

Damon glanced at him askance. "Bonnie fed him her blood."

Stefan was confused. " _She_ fed him? He didn't--?"

"No. Bon Bon tackled the guy and made him drink. He was pissed, then sullen, then hopeful and desperate when Bonnie said she could bring you back."

"He was just going to fade away, like us, wasn't he?" he didn't need Damon to respond to already know the answer, so the vampire stayed silent. "He never wanted to be a vampire," Stefan whispered.

"I know." Damon grasped the nape of Stefan’s neck, rocking him. "He'll get over it, he's a grown man."

"And me?" Stefan questioned so quietly that his brother would have missed it without his vamp-hearing.

Damon's eyes snapped to him, the Camaro pulling to a stop in the drive. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Stefan quickly left the car before his brother could stop him. Headlights flashed as Bonnie pulled in.

Elena was waiting anxiously on the front porch for them, her hands tugged into her sleeves for warmth against the night chill, gnawing on her lip. "Stefan!" she flung herself at him as soon as she saw him.

He grunted as he caught her full weight against him, arms around her as he stumbled back into the car. But her embrace was warm and he rested his cheek against her hair, holding her back. He wished he could listen to her heart, but he made do with the fruity scent of her hair, her breaths warm puffs against his neck.

"Bonnie said you were dead, but then that she could bring you back. I was so scared to believe, but here you are! And she called and said, you were human now?" Elena pulled back to look up at him. "How is that possible?"

"Wrong person to ask," he told her. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around things."

"You're here, that's all that matters." She took his hand and his fingers were ice cold. "You're freezing, Stefan, come inside." She pulled him along, the others following inside, but he quickly halted her.

"You have to invite Ric in, Elena." He looked back at the door to Alaric, lingering, prevented from coming inside by the threshold barrier now that he was a vampire and the house in Elena's name.

Elena's eye widened in understanding and she quickly invited the bampi inside. Alaric slowly stepped through, closing the door. "Come on, Stefan. You need to get warm." She insisted, starting to pull him into the parlor with the blazing fire in the fireplace.

Stefan pulled his hand from hers instead and continued down the hall toward the kitchen where the basement entrance lay. "Ric needs blood."

Damon blurred in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. "You need to shower, change, eat, and sleep, Stefan." He issued. "I'll take care of Teacher."

Stefan stared at his brother for a moment before he looked back over his shoulder at Alaric, who lingered a distance away. The vampire gave short nod and a pallid smile. "It's okay."

Stefan gave a sad sigh and changed his course for the stair, tromping up the steps. He glanced down over the railing from the top landing, but the hall was empty, everyone had dispersed. He closed his eyes, hand tight on the railing, wishing he could extend his hearing, wondered if Alaric was at least talking to Damon if not him. But it was useless. He went to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Katherine could no longer be an evil presence in his room, his bed, she was gone. But she was a malignant ghost over-hanging their lives still.

Stefan twisted the Gilbert ring on his finger, but did not pull it off. He'd have to ask Bonnie if it still held magic, wondered if it would bring him back to life if he died while wearing it now that he was human and no longer a vampire. Something deep in him was reluctant to take it off. Despite the symbol it permitted, laying on his ring finger where she had placed it. ' _I now pronounce you... separated forever.'_ But instead of separating them by death, Stefan felt the chasm between he and Alaric was formed by life instead. She must be laughing at him from her reserved room in Hell.

He unzipped Damon's jacket and laid it on the foot of his bed, before closing the door to the en suit. He turned the showerhead on and let the water get hot, the room fill with steam, as he stripped from the rest of his clothes, only his boots salvageable. He stepped into the tub, closing the glass door.

Stefan put his hand in the stream and let out a hiss at the near scalding temperature, jerking back, before he forced himself under the spray, fully emerged. He wanted the last few nights sterilized from his skin, so he started to scrub and his skin grew accustomed to the heat. He stepped from the shower when it started to go warm and dried himself, wrapping a towel around his hips and towelled his hair dry so it stuck up every which way. He went to the sink and wiped the condensation from the mirror, staring at his reflection.

His skin was pink and flushed from the heat of the shower, his skin looked _alive_. Not the pale porcelain complexion that he'd looked at over the past 145 years. Even if he had the water hot enough to scold his vampire skin, by the time he got to the mirror, he would have already healed. So, he didn't outwardly _look_ different now that he was human. He honestly couldn't tell what it felt like, he was exhausted and numb, in shock.

He pulled back his upper lip, revealing his teeth. His vampire fangs were gone but his pointed canines mocked him. His lips trembled. He quickly turned on the tap as tears suddenly clouded his haunted-looking green eyes, unbidden, to cover up any involuntary sounds they might bring with it. There were vampires in the house, they just weren't him any more. How many times did he wish to be human throughout the last 145 years? This was a true miracle, a 1 in a zillion dream come true, so why the hell was he dreading it like _it_ was the curse with every living, buzzing cell in his body?

Bracing his hands on the edge of the sink, it took Stefan several minutes of blurry eyes and a tight chest to calm his erratic breathing and the unexpected sobs. He met his gaze in the mirror, his eyes red-rimmed and chest panting, and swallowed and turned away from the himself. He put on a pair of flannel bottoms, a cotton tee, slipping a sweater on overhead. He leaned against his computer desk to put on socks because he knew if he sat on his bed, everything would catch up with him and his human body would bow under the pressure of enervation and he'd never get up again.

The scent hit him halfway down the stairs, his stomach grumbling in dissatisfied emptiness, startling him so he missed a step, saving himself on the railing as his mouth gushed with saliva. His stomach growled, with want of _food._ His stomach never growled as a vampire, it was simply a constant hollowness that bayed at him to fill it with human blood and never stop otherwise it would never be satisfied.

Stefan hopped the rest of the way down the stairs, and cut down the hall towards the kitchen where the smell originated. He saw the basement door ajar but was distracted as he stomach gurgled.

Elena grinned at him from where she was getting a bowl down from the cupboard. "Hungry, huh?"

"It smells good," he pouted, sitting on the edge of the stool at the island.

"Sorry it couldn't be something more extravagant, for your first meal as a human." Bonnie told him, turning off the burner flame and ladling the soup into the glass bowl. She set the bowl of soup in front of him with a spoon and Elena slid over a plate of cut toast.

"It's in the cupboard because I like it, Bonnie." He told her, tasking a spoonful, but Elena quickly stopped him. "What?"

"It's hot, dummy. Blow on it unless you want to burn your tongue on the first bite and not even be able to taste it for the rest."

"Right," he mumbled. Stefan could feel their stares as he blew gently on the spoon, the pressure was building. He ate the spoonful of heavy cream tomato soup. He tasted it and it was good, but it wasn't until he swallowed and it hit the empty pit of his complaining stomach that he groaned. He quickly scooped up more, blew, then ate it. The toast found its way into the soup, absorbing it before that found its way into his stomach. Soon, he didn't even have to blow on it, forewent the spoon altogether and slurped it directly from the bowl, barely tasting yet feeling heavy satisfaction at the weight in his stomach.

"I think those compliments go to the chef," Elena told Bonnie.

He put the bowl down, his head hung as he licked the remnants from his lips. He felt like he could weep, no, he did weep. For the first time in a century and a half, Stefan Salvatore's hunger was sated. There was no cloying inside of him of _hunger hunger hunger_. There was silence, there was satisfaction. It was the most beautiful thing that could have happened to him, and he felt miserable. Why did he get this and Alaric had it stolen away? His shoulders shook.

"Stefan, what's wrong?" Bonnie put a worried hand on his shoulder.

He just shook his head, keeping his face hidden. He swallowed the gag convulsively as his body and mind struggled with the other to keep the food down. "I'm not hungry anymore," he managed. "Thank you." They didn't seem to register the hollow quality to his tone as they took the dishes. The true meaning that lay in his words.

Stefan's head suddenly rose and the girls jumped a little to suddenly see Alaric standing behind the teen, the basement door banging lightly against the wall. Their gazes darted from one to the other and quickly excused themselves from the kitchen.

"Stef?"

"I'm okay." Stefan responded blankly, the same empty blanket response the bampi had been giving him all night. He felt Alaric's hand on his back and bit back the sob, it shuddering through his body. Alaric started to withdraw. "Don't," Stefan pleaded, devastated. "Don't pull away from me."

Alaric palm pressed back into his back. "I'm not, I promise." His hand brushed up the teen's back and he pushed his fingers into the fluffy, brunette locks. Stefan gave a little sigh, leaning into the touch, inadvertently baring his neck to the vampire. Alaric's blue gaze honed in on the supple line like the gently thrumming artery was a beacon, and now, to him, it was.

His hearing automatically tuned into that live, thumping beat of Stefan's heart, that really was one of the most beautiful sounds he could ever have heard, just like the brunette had admitted to him—but it was also alluring, a siren call to his hunger despite him just having fed on 2 pints of blood in the basement from the freezer, he was _still_ hungry. Damon said that was normal for a bampi, a newly turned vampire adjusting to his new nature. Growing pains, where all he wanted to do was drink, was automatically in-tuned to the 3 pumping hearts in the Boarding House. Damon told him it would ease up within the year—a year where so far, his constant fantasy was tearing into teenage necks. Him being a high school teacher, being around a hundred plus antsy, excitable blood bags on 2 legs for 8 hours of stress, 5 days a week it didn't bode for a very well year.

His chest pressed against Stefan's back. He felt the skin around his eyes tingle, a pressure in his gums. The new hungry predator in him snapped to the foreground as his fangs descended, his fingers tightened in Stefan's hair and his breath just brushed against the tissue paper thin skin before he somehow managed to wrench himself away with a growl.

Alaric blurred to the far side of the kitchen, his back to the teen as he tried to breathe, to focus. To will his vamp-face away. He been so close! It made him feel sick and desperate all at the same time. "I just need time to get control, find my balance, Stefan." He squeezed his veined eyes closed.

Stefan stood and slowly approached the vampire, sure to make him aware of the approach. "Ric," the teacher was taut at the palm on the small of his back. "Don't hide from me." He supplicated, his hand moving up his back to his shoulder, gently pulling.

Alaric followed the pressure, but he was still closed off. Lips pursed to cover fangs, eyes closed to hide blood-flushed sclera. But the vampire could not hide the engorged veins under his eyes. Stefan sucked in a shaky breath, not because he was frightened or because he was disgusted (that would have been supremely hypocritical of him), but because it was the stark manifestation of the brunette's worse nightmare come true, right alongside with killing Alaric and that was essentially what occurred. This had come to pass because of Stefan.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. Stefan gently reached up, cupping the teacher's face, his thumbs caressing lightly under his eyes, over the raised veins. _All my fault._

Alaric reached up and gently grasped his wrists, his thumb pads resting against the pulse points. "It's not," he whispered, words wisping around his fangs a little that Stefan hadn't noticed before. One didn't usual do talking with fangs out and Stefan found it adorable.

The brunette couldn't help but lean forward and press his lips once again to the fingers wrapped around his left wrist, felt the cool of his daylight ring against his upper lip. "Human or vampire, know that I love you, Ric. Whatever form you come to me as, as long as you'd have me."

Alaric's eyes opened, the blood flowing from his eyes and the rest of his features relaxing back into his face. "Of course I want you, Stefan. I just have to work very hard not to rip into that pretty neck of yours right now." His gaze flickered to it and swallowed, tearing his gaze away before he zeroed in on the teen's pulsing artery.

"I trust you."

Alaric stared back him. "Now I know why you always got so pissed when I said that to you." He told him wryly.

That pulled an involuntary laugh from the brunette and he grinned. "It serves you right... but it still stands. I trust you, Ric."

"Well, I don't trust me right now." Alaric repeated Stefan’s words back to him but they rang just as true here for them as the had for Stefan back then.

Stefan nodded in sad acceptance of this, he understood that feeling.

Within his first kill, within the realization that he'd murdered his father and truly become that monster that the man had tried to kill, Stefan discovered his humanity switch and flipped it without concern, without thought to the consequence. In that precious moment, he simply could not take the shame and horror of it, not only had he murdered someone, but he had committed patricide. No matter the man's past action to his sons, death was never a sensible response—but with his humanity off, the justification became reasonable. Giuseppe Salvatore had shot and killed both of his sons because he had been embarrassed and ashamed they had both fallen in love with the same vampire, and then proceeded to concoct some contrived extravagance for the history books to cover up the family shame. But he had truly been his own disgrace and wickedness that he endeavoured to conceal. Stefan saw no reason to feel remorse, this man had been the real monster. The villain. And so, finished his first feed from the dead man and went to go find his big brother again—but not before compelling a young maid to come along.

Though Alaric's transition had been as unwanted as Stefan's own, and its completion as involuntary as Damon's, no death had occurred because of it. There was nothing to warrant him turning off his humanity switch. But that also didn't negate the fact that all that would be on his mind was _blood hunger feed consume kill_. Blood would always sing for a vampire, no matter the age; it was just the matter of the vampire's control over the impulse that would let them feel pure ecstasy at the point of achievement. It was about overruling that desire. Alaric was just shy 5 hours of being a vampire and had tendered amazing control thus far. Stefan did not want to be the cause of the shattering to that control.

So he tried to perk up a little with a bit of a twinkle in his tired green eyes, "Does this mean you're going to cook me a fancy dinner then?"

Alaric's brow furrowed in confusion, before realization dawned and it smoothed, the tension around his eyes giving slightly. "Not tonight, but challenge accepted." He agreed.

"Not challenge," he countered with a sly lilt. "A role reversal for a second date."

"I'm probably not a good of cook as you," he warned lightly.

"You just have to be good enough not to give me salmonella," Stefan teased back and the dirty-blond gave a short chuckle with a slight shake of his head. They gazed at each other, green eyes involuntarily flickering down to pink lips surrounded in stubble.

"I want to kiss you so bad," Stefan uttered.

"That's probably not a good ides," Alaric whispered back, eyes trained on his mouth as Stefan bit his lip.

"I know." The desire for sex and blood were closely intertwined in vampires, it was too easy for them to get confused and connected, especially in bampies and especially if it starts out as sex. The arousal responses, especially in a human partner... it all called to the predatory side, like the wails of a wounded animal. It could be just as intoxicating as the scent of blood from a freshly bleeding wound.

And yet... the desire between them magnetized; to touch, to _know_ and they swooped towards each other, the short distance between them. Lips crashed together with bruising force, at least now in Stefan's case. Alaric clutched at the teen desperately, fighting the urge to tear what felt like an unnecessarily thick sweater at the teen's back, needed to feel skin, the liquid warmth that flowed beneath. Stefan gasped into his mouth and Alaric claimed with his tongue.

Stefan tasted what he could only assume was human blood, but he held no hunger for it, just a hunger to taste Alaric. That urge to just somehow consume the man entirely was still there, if somehow, it seemed all the more urgent now. With a growl, Alaric lifted him effortlessly onto the island, shoving the cluttered kitchen knick-knacks out of the way, pushing him flat and shoved his sweater and shirt up his chest.

Alaric pressed his mouth against Stefan's chest, could feel the strong, fast heartbeat thump through his breastbone against his lips. This beautiful beating organ had almost been taken away from him forever. Heat pulsed through his lips, he could feel the ache of his fangs press against his gum, urging him to take a taste of the pure quality blood it pumped so strongly. Stefan dug his fingers into his dirty-blond hair, arching his flushed, panting chest as Alaric kissed and licked his way slowly down his chest. He could feel the light scrape of fangs against his sensitive skin, enticing, making him shiver.

Alaric could _smell_ the teen's lust, the arousal sweat, taste it; could feel the flush that rose to the surface of his skin like a strong perfume. And it made him crave the brunette; made him want blood and cum. Stefan wrapped his legs around the vampire's waist, pulling him flush and rubbing his confined erection against his chest, giving a breathy moan. "Ric."

Alaric's cool hands caressed down his heated flank, fingers pushing into the band of his pants and underwear, pulling down, tonguing every inch of warm skin exposed—intent on freeing the blood-flushed, swollen piece of flesh that lay confined within. Alaric nuzzled into the short and curlies revealed, and Stefan made a mewling sound, pelvis arching up toward the teacher, just one more pull of cloth and his bulge would spring free--

"Ahem!" there was a loud, emphatic clearing of throat from the other side of the kitchen.

Stefan was frozen solid for at the interruption and as Alaric rose his head slightly to glare across at the raven-haired intruder, lips pulled back to show wicked sharp fangs and gave a low snarl of warning.

Damon snorted, unimpressed and unmoved at the threatening display. "Please, I can break you like that," he snapped his fingers in a blur. "You're just a vampire wannabe yet, _Ric_. So, pack it up, buddy boy."

Alaric continued to glare, breathing deeply, trying to pack away the predatory urge to blur over and snap Damon's neck, before continuing his claiming of Stefan, _his._ His position over Stefan had transformed into a predatory thing as well, which Alaric didn't like but was having some difficulty pulling out of. Fingers still tangled in the dirty-blond hair, Stefan gave it a tug, managing to draw the blue-eyes to him and from other vampire.

"Just focus," Stefan whispered. "Breathe." He slowly sat up, sweater dropping back into place, blocking the bampi's view of his brother, blocking him visually out of the equation. Alaric focused on his calm forest green eyes, centering himself from violent impulse and his fangs sheathed back into his tender gums. He exhaled and Stefan pulled his hand from his hair so the man could straighten.

"Finished?" Damon interrupted. "Good," he didn't wait for the answer. "I thought I made the following events when we returned pretty clear, Stefan: shower, change, eat, and sleep. Nowhere in there was the word sex. So here I am, this is what you've both reduced me to... the Sex Police. Just call me Officer Cock-Block! 'cause the 2 of you are not having it. Not while you are volatile," he told Alaric. "And you are vulnerable," he addressed Stefan. "So, you 2 can just," he made a parting gesture, "Back away from each other."

"Unless you want to finish that 'teacher's pet' conversation," Alaric informed him dryly, "It's best I don't step away."

Damon snorted but just said: "Bed. Sleep. And do it separately, okay? for everyone's peace of mind."

"Alright, already!" Stefan grumbled. "We get it. Will you please just go?"

"Your right cheek still has that little dimple, huh? Cute!"

"Damon!" Stefan whipped a stray flipper at him over his shoulder, but it was slow and his brother easily dodged it before he blurred down the hall, leaving his laughter behind. Muttering curses after him, Stefan tugged his pants back up with a disgruntled sigh. "This sucks."

"He's right, though." Alaric said.

"That makes it even worse."

Alaric gave a short, depressed chuckle. "I feel like horny teenager."

"I _am_ a horny teenager," Stefan countered. "Your sexual desire is heightened now, just like everything else. I suggest getting a hobby. Food and especially alcohol helps curb the blood craving. I also suggest masturbation, but it's kind of Catch-22."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, it'll just amp you up for a while, you'll have to do it to completion several times in a row before you feel any real _abation_ of the desire. Sex also has the effect of making you want to _drink_. The two base urges are very intertwined."

Stefan knew all to well the close-cut intricacies of the 2 impulses. That was why he had frequently abstained from intercourse over his tenure as a vampire when his humanity switch was on (but even when he went full Ripper it was all about the blood), because it was all too closely mixed with his urge of bloodlust, could become a hair trigger for the bloodlust. So he would masturbate instead, _several_ times a night to even feel a drip of any true sexual tension release.

"The vampire sex talk from my human boyfriend," Alaric remarked. "Can't say I ever saw this coming."

"Trust me, you'll need it." Stefan slid from the countertop without warning, brushing full length against an unprepared Alaric, still positioned close.

Alaric gripped the edge of the counter. "You trying to get Damon to come back here and snap my neck?" he panted against Stefan's forehead.

"Sorry," Stefan closed his eyes at the vampire's breath against his skin.

Alaric hadn't thought he was a very impulsive man, but he was, wasn't he?

It was impulsive to sleep with Stefan the very first time, back at Duke, when he thought he was an 18 year old human with an interest in attending Duke the following school year. It was impulsive to quit his secure, great paying job as history professor at Duke to move to another city to as a crappy paying high school teacher in the unlikely whim that vampires where actually real. It had been another impulse to sleep with Stefan after coming back to life via the Gilbert ring. Hadn't those been acts of impulse? But wasn't life really just a series of impulses that would either wither and die or take root and bloom into something serious, important, life-altering, life-lasting? Stefan definitely was life-altering and life-lasting.

Alaric finally released the counter and pulled himself back from the intoxicating human. "Separate sleeping arrangements right now sounds like a very good idea."

_It really doesn't,_ Stefan wanted to counter, but just said: "Come on, I'll show y-- wait!" his eyes widened, "What day is it?"

Alaric's eyes crossed to look out the widows over the sink, the sky was just starting to be painted with soft yellows of the sunrise. "Tuesday, morning." He looked back to the teen, "Why--?"

"Salvatore!" Stefan was horrified with himself, he was such a bad owner. He spun on his socked feet around the corner of the island counter, headed for the kitchen door, only his sudden incoordination blindsided him as it had done several times that night since he'd become human and he suddenly found himself tripping toward the open basement door.

Suddenly, arms were wrapped around him tightly in a blur, and Alaric's back crashed against the door frame, not quite having mastered his new high-speed ability yet. "You need to be more careful, Stefan!" Alaric's voice rose with his worry.

Stefan was panting in his arms, chest hammering in his chest; Alaric could feel it acutely through his back, if his own heart could beat now, it would be the same rhyme. Stefan swallowed convulsively, his knees feeling weak; had he almost just killed himself? Doing a header down the basement stairs would have be a inconvenience before, but now it would have been a permanence. Arm still secure around the brunette's chest, he moved them from doorway, shutting the door with his heel. He turned Stefan in his arms and stroked his hair comfortingly as Stefan panted into his neck, shaky.

"You--" his voice croaked around the lump in his throat. "You gotta turn me. I can't do this. I can't be like this!" Stefan cried.

Alaric tightened his hold. "You're alright, Stef. You're okay now. You're just tired. Hush." Alaric had no intention of turning Stefan, other than the fact that they didn't even know if it would put Stefan in transition or simply kill him, the answer was no. Damon had made his own position clear to the bampi while in the basement; this was something they agreed completely and whole-heartedly. Stefan was staying human for a very long time. "Let's get you to bed," he kissed his hair and started to guide him down the hall toward the stair, Stefan face buried in his neck.

"Stefan?" Elena question quietly in the front hall.

Alaric paused and Stefan sniffed, wiping his eyes surreptitiously before he straightened and turned to see the 2 girls ready to leave. "You guys are leaving?" he cleared his throat.

"We need to stop by home, then school." She looked between the 2. "I guess neither of you will be going to school tomorrow?"

"No." Damon appeared, making the 3 teens jolt. "These 2 will be in quarantine here for the rest of the week, at the very least."

"We'll stop by after, later." Bonnie said. "There are probably something’s we should talk about when you're rested."

"And you don't have to worry," Elena assured him. "I've been feeding Salvatore while you were... gone." She finished awkwardly.

"Thank you, 'Lena." Stefan exhaled, giving a small smile at the news. "I was worried."

_That was about the only useful thing I could do while she had you,_ She didn't say. "I was happy to."

Stefan stepped forward and opened his arms, and the 2 teen girls tucked in against his chest, in a three-way embrace. His arms tightened around them and he pressed his lips to Bonnie's hair. "Thank you."

"I'm so glad we got you back, Stefan." Bonnie returned. They parted and the girls left in Bonnie's Prius.

"Go to bed, Stefan." Damon growled at him immediately. "I'm serious, or I'm going to tuck your ass in myself."

"I'm going," Stefan grabbed Alaric's hand, pulling him up the stairs.

"Separately!"

"I heard you the first 3 times!" at the top landing, Stefan lead the vampire down the opposite way to his bedroom. "This is Zach's old room," he turned on the light, the room darkened from closed curtains. "I slept in it for a few days after..." he didn't want to say, but Alaric understood; after he turned off his humanity because he thought he'd killed Alaric. The bed was still messy, stray articles of discarded clothing laying around, his journal on the nightstand. Stefan grabbed it. "It's all your now, unless you--"

"It's fine, Stefan." Alaric assured. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep much anyway."

"Right." Stefan glanced at the floor.

"Sweet dreams, Stef." Ric murmured, cupping the back of his head and pressing his lips to his heated forehead. Had it been that warm before?

Stefan wished desperately to collapse against the vampire but he knew it was impossible at the moment, so he pulled away. "Goodnight," he said at the door, ringed hand on the knob. "Or good morning. Good sleep?" he grimaced, face palming.

"Are you--?" Alaric started.

"I love you," Stefan said suddenly.

"I love you, too." He returned without hesitation.

Stefan nodded and closed the door with a click. He quickly made his way back to his bedroom, fanning his shirt over flushed skin. He easily found his bed amid the dim, despite his now dulled senses and collapsed onto his bed with a groan of depression, rolling up in his blankets and pulling it over his head. It was stuffy but he fell into a exhausted sleep a handful of breaths later.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Hunger woke Stefan, the blanket kicked off to the foot of his bed, chilled sweat clinging to his hot skin. He dragged himself from the bed, stumbled around in search for his boots for a minute before he found them in the bathroom amid a pile of soiled and discarded clothing. He pulled them on, almost feeling _sick_ as he bent over.

He staggered from the bathroom to his balcony doors and unlocked them. Stefan squinted into the bright afternoon sun as he stepped out onto the landing. He felt _off_ but it was nothing some blood couldn't fix. Hands on the railing, he lifted his booted foot onto the edge, his eyes fluttering in disorientation. He was about to jump down over the guardrail—when strong arms wrapped painfully tight around him, yanking him forcefully from the railing.

It was severely long moments, held in those arms feeling safe, that Stefan realized he probably shouldn't be so passive after getting grabbed by an unknown, so he squirmed his way free.

"Ric?!" Stefan looked at him in utter surprise and confusion. "What are you--? How did you find me?"

Alaric furrowed his brow in confusion. "Stefan, you--"

"You can't be here," Stefan's eyes were wide with panic. He started to push ineffectually on his chest, "If Damon finds you--"

"Hey, hey." Alaric grasped his arms and it felt like fire lay beneath his sleeves. "You're burning up."

"I'm sorry," he was suddenly docile, letting himself be guided back toward his bed. "I didn't want to leave, but there's always trouble when I stay. The people I love always get hurt." Alaric tucked him under the blanket. "You should go before something bad happens, I couldn't live with myself. Something bad always happens..." he trailed off, his glossy gaze drifting off somewhere else.

"Damon," Alaric called sharply. "Something's wrong."

"You saw Damon?" Stefan perked up. "If he okay? I was supposed to go. I was supposed to help him, but I was scared, I wasn't strong enough. I sent Lexi. He hates me. He--"

"Shhh," Alaric rubbed his chest soothingly. "Damon loves you, Stef."

"He does?" Stefan questioned in a small voice.

"Of course I do," Damon suddenly appeared at the foot of his bed. "Or I wouldn't have put up with you this long."

"He's burning up," Alaric told him.

Damon crawled up the head of the bed, his hand to his brother's sweaty forehead. He hissed at the heat that radiated from his skin, like waves.

Stefan groaned, nuzzling into his big brother's cool palm. "Damon, I don't feel so well. Father said I could finally come along hunting; he's going to think I'm weak."

Damon narrowed his eyes. "You're not weak, Stef. Don't worry about father, I'm going to take care of you. Just go back to sleep, baby brother."

Stefan rolled over, cuddling in his big brother's lap, seeking comfort, clinging to his shirt. "Mm." He exhaled, relaxing back to sleep, face pressed into Damon's stomach.

Damon met Alaric’s gaze, the worry and fear reflected back easily in each burning blue gaze.

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? Alaric's a vampire. Stefan's back and he's human. What could this mean for their relationship? How will Stefan adjust, can he? Another interlude to follow, with lovable guardian/brotherly Damon with some plans for his baby brother’s future human life!  
> HAPPY HOLIDAYS!


	12. CHAPTER 11: Interlude 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a gift for you all for the holidays, hope you enjoy!

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

Damon stared down at him for a moment, thrown back in time when Stefan would get ill and only ever be able to get the rest his body needed if Damon was there to cuddle and comfort. Damon carded his fingers through his brother's sweaty locks, worry engulfing him at the heat, the laboured breaths, all of it. Was the cause nefarious, or innocent?　

"Should we... give him blood?" Alaric sat on the edge of the bed, laying his hand on Stefan's blanket covered hip.

"We don't know how the fuck he'll react to that," Damon answered. "Barring the fact that he was dead and brought back to life as a human, I've never actually healed a person who was _ill_ just physically injured."

"So we treat it like any normal person would, with medicine." The teacher reasoned. He quickly went into the bathroom and returned with a cool, damp cloth. He leaned over and managed to tuck it against Stefan's burning forehead; who sighed.

"Medicine hasn't changed that much then," Damon scoffed.

"Advil will help," Alaric said. "But, the state he's in, he'd never be able to swallow them. Hang on," he went back into the en suite.

"We don't have--" Damon started, but stopped as Alaric came out holding up the bottle. "Why the hell would he have that? It would have no effect on a vampire."

That wasn't the only thing the bampi was surprised to discover going through the medicine cabinet and drawers. It was cluttered with a bunch of products that would be of no use to a vampire, like the Advil and box of Band-Aids, all brand new and un-opened. When Stefan started to stock up more food in the kitchen when they started to date, he must have stocked up on all the other generic things human-Ric might have needed while staying over. It made butterflies flutter in the teacher's chest at such care and thoughtfulness shown toward him that he hadn't felt in a such a long time, if ever. "I'll be back." He blurred to the kitchen and when he came back, it was with a tablespoon.

Damon made his face as he eyed it. "What the hell is that?"

"Crushed Advil, some sugar to cut the bitterness, and water to help it go down." Alaric sat on the bed. "Turn him so he won't choke."

Stefan moaned in discomfort as he was moved, eyes fluttering blurrily.

"Come on, Stef." Damon murmured when his brother tried to bury his face in his stomach again. "You gotta swallow some medicine to get better." Damon titled his head up in his lap, pulling down on his chin to open his mouth.

Alaric carefully spooned the crushed Advil into his mouth. Stefan coughed, swallowing convulsively, his flushed face screwed up, a gag choking him. Alaric massaged his neck and chest soothingly until the teen calmed down. Damon glared at him.

"If you ever tasted Advil without the coating, you'd understand." Alaric took the cloth and quickly re-wet it with cold water.

Damon took it from him and mopped at Stefan's sweaty flushed face and throat. "God damn it, Stefan. There can't just be a moment of peace with you, can it? It's always something with you." He laid the cloth across his forehead again. "He used to get sick all the time when he was a kid; these terrible fevers. They seemed to go away when he hit puberty though." He looked up at Alaric, "Get your phone, call the witch and tell her to get her ass down here. I want to make sure this isn't some bullshit consequence of him being brought back from the dead."

Alaric blurred down the hall to Zach's old room where his cell was. All this vamp-running was starting to wear him, even if they were in small spurts, and his new hunger was starting to rear its ugly head, despite having a bag when he woke (which really meant came out of the room) sometime before noon. So while he called Bonnie, he quickly got and drained a pint; the last thing they needed right now was for him to lose control due to the stress.

Damon tried to shift Stefan into a more comfortable reclining position on the bed under the covers from where the teen was curled up in his lap like Stefan was still a little kid instead of a grown one, but his now human brother clung to him with that same desperation as he had when a child.

Their mother grew ill after Stefan's birth and it was a short and long eight years before she succumbed to what they now called TB. She tried to be there for her children as much as she was able, and when Stefan went through frequent bouts of sickness through his childhood, father kept her away from Stefan and kept Stefan confined to his room with a treatment of nurse maids. Of course, no appointed restriction, especially set by their father, could bar Damon from his baby brother. So, in those weeks of sickness, when Stefan cried out, wracked with fever and sickness, it was Damon that answered to that call.

Stefan made pitiful sounds of protest until Damon gave up and settled again. Damon moved the warm cloth, the fever instantly burned through any cooling factor of the cloth as soon as it touched his brother. Damon started to stroke his hot skin, the teen making a soft sound at the cool touch of the undead.

"Bonnie's coming right now," Alaric returned and picked up the cloth to renew it again when Damon stopped him.

"That cloth is doing shit. It only helps for a second before the fever burns right through it. He's hovering at 101."

Alaric looked at him in surprise. "You can tell that just by touching him?"

"I'm 169 years old, Ric." Damon replied. "You ever drink from an actual human you'll feel and taste the difference from au natural and the electromagnetic radiation of a microwave, trust me."

"I haven't really the patience right now to take the time and _microwave_ my blood." He turned. "Can't really care to, not when it feels like I'm ravished and hadn't fed in days."

"Come on," Damon jerked his head, shifting Stefan who writhed in protest as Alaric climbed and settle into the space on his other side; it was eerily similar to back at the quarry with Stefan lain dead between them. "Easy, brother."

"You're okay, Stef." Alaric murmured, and Stefan's head shifted toward the sound of his voice, exhaling through his nose and settling as the dirty-blond's cold fingers joined his brother's strokes on his sweaty, flushed skin. "It's your scent," he said a few minutes later.

Damon raised a brow. "What?"

Alaric nodded at Stefan. "Your scent... you. You're the constant thing in his life when he's vulnerable and needing comfort and safety. From what Stefan's said, all through-out his childhood, all those defining moments that made him who he was—his big brother was there. Like an instinctual imprint."

Damon stared at him, his expression stoic. "Stick to your subject of teaching, huh?" Alaric couldn't help the small smirk.

That was how Bonnie found them, crowded on the bed like that after parking haphazardly in the drive, bolting up the stairs 2 at a time and bursting breathlessly into Stefan's bedroom. She stood at the foot of the bed for a moment as she caught her breath, observing. Her stress and worry went down several notches at simply observing the fact that water wasn't bubbling out of his mouth again or a wound wasn't preternaturally opening on his chest like the magic she and Emily had cast was somehow unravelling.

"Are you just going to stare or are you actually going to do something useful, Bennett?" Damon demanded in a crispy tone, making Stefan give a discordant moan at his brother's raised voice, who quickly hushed the teen.

Bonnie couldn't even dine to roll her eyes at the accusation, not when faced with such brotherly affection coming from the usually caustic vampire that would still catch her off guard over the last few weeks. She climbed onto the bed with the three men, sitting on her knees by Stefan's waist on Damon's side with more room with the brunette's head and upper torso in his lap.

Inhaling and exhaling slow, relaxing breaths to calm herself, she pulled the blanket wrapped around Stefan just low enough to lay her left palm on his chest. Continuing the breathing, matching the rise of her chest with Stefan's, she felt the calm, steady beat of her heart, collide with Stefan's slightly raised one through the palm of her hand. She reached her magic out, down through the connection. Both vampires felt their little hairs raise, tingling slightly with the close connection of magic. Doing as Grams had taught her; every living thing, like the elements held their power, their own source, in layman: aura. Bonnie carefully felt around Stefan's, the teen not even stirring at the gentle intrusion, her brow stitched in concentration.

After several long moments, she opened her eyes and pulled her hand away, pulling the blanket back up Stefan's chest. "This isn't magic," Bonnie declared, sitting back on the edge of the bed. Her hand laying on blanket covering Stefan's shin. "This is not any effect because of the spell—He's human now, Damon. That means his body is going to react like any normal person's. He was laying on the cold damp ground for the entire night, walking around in socks. He's never had an immunization or flu shots; his immune system will be set in the same state as it was." The older Salvatore pinned her with a squinted look. "Health Class," she retorted. "Did you mother breast feed Stefan?"

Damon shook his head. "Our mother grew ill after Stefan's birth and couldn't. Usually, in the times, you'd find a maid who'd recently given birth and she would have taken over the feeding, but there wasn't one, so Stefan was fed goat's milk."

"Typically in newborns, they get those resistant antibodies from a mother's breast milk, protects them until they develop their own. But the both of you were born in the 19th century where there weren't things like car exhaust or nuclear plants, or when simple booster shots. He'll never have developed any of those immunities to 21st century strains of illness."

"So he's basically a new born baby with an immunity deficiency," Alaric concluded worriedly. He looked over at Damon, "Maybe we should--"

"We are." Damon's mouth was set in a grim line, his palm laid on Stefan's forehead. "His temperature hasn't gone down; it's been inching up. There's no other option. Move," he ordered Bonnie, who quickly scrambled off the bed.

Alaric helped sit Stefan up, who only stirred, mouth gaped and breathing heavily, so Damon could get out from under him. Damon knelt on the edge of the bed, an arm going under his brother's knees, the other behind his shoulders. "You got him?" as much as he wanted it himself, the older vampire had the rights and control.

"Yeah." Damon stood, shifted Stefan more securely in his arms. The brunette's head lulled on his shoulder, forehead coming to rest against his neck. The heat coming off him was unnatural and almost felt like a hot iron pressed against his flesh, each breath like a billow of steam from the holes. "Pick up your ass, Ric, if you're coming. You can practice your compulsion and blood control, it'll be great." He smirked blankly. Damon exited at half-vamp speed to the driveway, his brother precious cargo.

Alaric shared a quick look with the witch, grabbed Damon's leather jacket that had fallen to the floor at the foot of the bed when the vampire had picked up Stefan, blanket and all, and blurred down to the driveway. Alaric got into the backseat of the Camaro and Damon carefully passed his tall brother back, who started to kick up a fuss before the dirty-blond quickly tucked his big brother's jacket under the blanket against his chest and cheek. Damon hopped in, never bothering with the seatbelt and started his engine, somehow driving like a _graceful_ bat out of hell toward Mystic Falls General Hospital.

...

Damon stared blankly at the admission sheet in his hand. It wasn't like he could write: _05/11/1846_ for birth date _._ He couldn't exactly fill out the Illness 'Other' line with: _vampire killed and brought back as human came down suddenly with illness._ So he simply put: _fever_ , for that and did a quick calculation in his head and put: _05/11/1992,_ and wrote his own name in for 'parents/guardian'.

He handed it over to the on-duty nurse behind the station; this was where a lot of compulsion and a little creativity came in.

She surveyed the clipboard. "You barely filled this out, sir. We're going to need the name of your health insurance agency, also the patient's social insurance number..." he caught her eye when she looked up and she trailed off as his pupils dilated.

"Our parents were progressive." He said smoothly in compulsion. "The modern health care system wasn't really their thing, record keeping and the like. They died and I've recently taken guardianship over my brother."

"I'm sorry for your loss," she replied. "It must be hard to take all that responsibility."

"He's my brother." Damon told her simply. "Now, about all those blank spaces on the page..." and he told exactly what he needed and if she couldn't provide him with those things, then she should direct him to the people who could. "You're going to give my brother the best care and his own room, you make sure that ring on his left hand stays right where it is, **no one** will take it off. If they do, you come find me. Visiting hours don't apply to me or him," he jerked his head back to Alaric, "Don't you worry about us. Stefan has never had a flu shot in his life, nor an immunization shot."

"We can take care of that, sir."

"Good. I also need you to do a full work up on him like he's the Bubble Boy gotten out of confinement. The results will be private, got that?" she gave a small nod. "Now, about what we talked about before... who exactly do I need to see about that again?"

"What are you up to?" Alaric questioned him when he returned from the nurses station, having listened in with his new vamp-hearing to focus on anything other than the smell of appetizing blood and the harsh burn of sterilization chemicals.

"Just your basic WitSec package," Damon told him. "Can you handle this?" he waved a vague hand over his shoulder.

Alaric narrowed his eyes. "I'll be fine."

"'Cause the last thing we need right now is the town's history teacher tearing into necks and those long ago animal attacks suddenly making a little more sense,"

"You mean _your_ animal attacks,"

"My fangs, your fangs, we're all just the same, Ric."

"If I recall correctly..." Alaric said. "Our fangs are very different."

"Hm," Damon eyed him. "Not many people would be that observant while I was puncturing their lung with their own weapon. Good on you, Teacher!" he clapped the vampire on the shoulder. "Anyway, the Council won't much care whose fangs are better just the fact that we have them at all. So, keep 'em in your mouth, huh? And if you do mess up, it'll give you a chance to practice your compulsion. I should be back before we get any news, but if--"

"I'll call you," Alaric assured him, "He's going to be alright, Damon. It's a fever, people get them all the time."

Damon narrowed his eyes. "I already know that. You don't have to tell _me_ that. I was there, every time; telling him stories, mopping his forehead with a cool cloth, holding him as he was wracked with fever dreams, rubbing his back as he threw-up, feeding him when he couldn't even hold the spoon he was shivering and shaking so bad, singing him to sleep. _I_ was the one there when he cried out for comfort." He stepped into Alaric’s space. "So I can promise you, that is the only bonding moment we are ever going to have over Stefan's death."

"Damn right it is."

"Good. Because you're not a useless human now, Teacher," Damon jabbed his chest with enough force to bruise the vampire, "You're a top class predatory species now; all senses magically enhanced, practically invulnerable. So you protect Stefan's now fragile human life with your practically immortal one, sacrificing your undead one if need be or it will be your heart I'll be ripping out while Bonnie pins you to the wall with magic." He growled lowly.

"If that ever happened," Alaric told him sincerely, "I would let you."

"Good." Damon stepped back, dusting his hands and his expression turning back it usual, smirky, unaffected one, even if Alaric was able to detect the shadow of worry in his blue eyes and the tautness to his lines that would be unnoticeable except for a select few that encompassed not even a handful of people on the planet.

Alaric held out the leather jacket to the vampire, who shrugged it on; by the time they'd made it to the hospital, not even the comfort of his big brother's scent or Alaric cool strokes across his blazing skin could prevent Stefan from the tossing and incoherent mumbles and moans.

"I expect my brother's friend-zone harem to arrive shortly, so good luck with that." Damon told him in parting, grabbing Stefan’s blanket tucked under the bampi's arm.

Alaric watched his back as he exited through the double, automatic glass doors. As they closed, he sighed and sat back down in his chair in the waiting room. It was in its own little pocket of loneliness for the moment, away from the inhabitants of the others that lined the waiting room with their various ailments, waiting impatiently for their name to be called.

Now that he wasn't concentrating all his attention and effort on tuning his new high-def vamp-hearing on Damon's conversation at the nurse's desk and filtering out all the other unwanted audio—the still not even a day old vampire was left to acutely realize just how many of the waiting peoples' injuries and ailments included _bleeding_.

That hole in Alaric's stomach suddenly felt like it was starting to widen, the lining of his stomach stripped away with a pressurized air stream and the sweet fragrance of blood tickled the back of his throat with such a desperate thirst. He swallowed and it felt like he was swallowing desert, the walls of his throat scraping against each other like sandpaper.

He tried to calm, focus. He could do this, just supplement the urge with something else. Control. It was like resisting the urge to scratch chicken pox when he was a kid with next to zero self-control, but this time, scratching meant tearing into people's necks with glorious satisfaction and drinking from blood bags was like bathing in calamine lotion.

For Stefan, being a former Ripper, he must have had this craving a million fold. _Not_ being a Ripper, Alaric should be able to do this. He was an adult, that's what being an adult was. Control. Resistance--

The automatic doors rushed open and suddenly there was a flurry of movement and commotion as two guys came in, shouting for help, hauling another barely conscious body between them. There was blood on them, a sharp freshness, saliva inducing aroma—the source, the senseless man's leg, pant leg torn, a sweater haphazardly tied around his thigh, saturated in blood. What seemed like a gaggle of nurses and doctors in pink scrubs and blue scrubs and white coats rushed in with a wheelchair and quickly, efficiently transferred the new emergency patient into it. A nurse stayed to have the man's friend give all the much needed details and the rest all rushed passed the unknown supernatural being and through the restricted ER doors.

The only thing that stopped Alaric from lunging at the entire group as they rushed by, was the slivers the he dug up painfully under his fingernails from the inhuman grip on the wooden armrests of his waiting chair. His eyes glued instead to the scuffed white large tile squares, the inconsistent trail of blood in a bold, chopped line before him. It was like a bait line, a row of sweet candy trying to lure him in. He felt the tingle around his sockets as his eyes tried to flush in mirrored colour. The bampi hardly even realized that he was sinking lower in his chair, inching forward, mouth agape with hungry fangs.

Alaric bit through his tongue with his unaccustomed fangs in surprise, his own tepid blood filling his parched mouth as the wet, thick threads of a mop swiped through the blood by an efficient orderly, who swiftly carried on away, removing the rest of the traces of blood.

Ric had a moment of pure panic and fled (hardly able to stop his body from reacting in vamp-speed at his horror), bursting in the single unit, unisex, handicap restroom and locked himself inside. He paced, not even realizing it was pitch black in the room, trying to calm his breathing because it was doing nothing but giving him bigger gulps of the delicious scent. He stopped short as he caught his passing reflection in the mirror from the corner of his piercing gaze and stared.

He shivered at his own reflection. He'd never actually _seen_ what he looked like like this, his **true-face** on complete display before; he'd only felt it. The sharp relief as his fangs escaped his gums; it almost felt like worms crawling under his skin as the veins engorged with blood and rose to the surface, it was like a spike of adrenaline as his eyes flooded with blood, but it didn't hinder his sight, it _enhanced_ it even more than was now the norm. _Everything_ seemed to. It all became crystal clear, like a camera focus snapped into clear sharpness—the true predator of want and the achievement of that one want. _Blood. Feed._ It was scary and defining to see himself this way, like the last piece clicking into place and clarity showing him reality.

Alaric gripped the edge of the sink, pressing his fingertips harshly against the porcelain, igniting the already sharp pain of the slivers in his fingers, his nostrils flaring and teeth gritted. He never knew splinters could be so painful, but he was a vampire now, and anything wood was going to be a 100,000 fold of painful in comparison to before. Somehow, the pain helped him focus, and with a deep inhale, he straightened and concentrated on the task of picking the slivers out.

As he picked the last one out, he glanced back into the mirror and his face was returned back to normal. He exhaled. He could do this. He needed to be able to do this. And not just for himself, but for Stefan too. He calmly washed his hands, and before he finally exited the bathroom, he squirted some of the hand sanitizer from the dispenser by the door and rubbed it on his upper lip. The scent burned the back of his nose and throat as he breathed, made his blue eyes tear up, but it helped him keep a straight head with all the blood as he returned to the waiting room for news on Stefan's condition—and all the while, started to truly realize that his and Stefan's relationship was once again going to be broadsided by the role reversal of beings.

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love that brotherly!Damon, but what could he be up to? And uh-oh, what has Alaric gotten into his head now with all these pesky enhanced emotions? Just a reminder, Stefan's birthday is November 5, sometimes people write the date dd/mm/yyyy, or mm/dd/yyyy, I did the former, November 5th NOT May 11. 
> 
> Everyone have a Merry Christmas this weekend!


	13. CHAPTER 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I hope you all had a great Holiday. Here’s another chapter for you! Enjoy!

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Stefan awoke to an unfamiliar foam-tiled ceiling, covered in a scratchy blanket. He looked around with a furrowed gaze of confusion, only for them to widen in alarm as he took in the hospital room and IV taped below his elbow. He had absolutely no recollection of getting here, simply going to bed as Damon had ordered and now waking up here, alone. One thing the newly turned human knew—this was the last place he was supposed to be: born in 1846, a vampire for a 145 years, brought back for the Other Side and resurrected back into a human with magic... he needed to get the hell out of here!　

Grasping the raised bed railings, Stefan pulled himself upright and threw off the blanket. He was contemplating which to do first: lower the rail or take out the IV needle when a nurse came in, first surprised to see him awake, then pleased that he was as she approached his bed.

"And where do you think you're going, hon?" a hand on his shoulder pushed his weak body back against the pillow and she efficiently tucked the blanket back around him before he could even think of an answer. "It's nice to finally see those beautiful green eyes in person."

"How did I get here?" he finally asked. "I really can't be here, I need to go home."

She touched the back of her hand to his forehead and cheeks, checking. "You're right where you need to be." Stefan opened his mouth to protest when she stuck a thermometer under his tongue, he went to take it out but she put her fingers under his chin. "Aw, mouth closed, Mr Salvatore."

Stefan stilled, mind going blank.

"Chin up, Stefan. Show me that grand posture," she put her finger under his chin, forcing him to raise it. And then set the base of the glass on his skull. "Don't spill now," her manicured nail nicked his chin on purpose as she released him.

The beep of the thermometer jolted him from the memory and the nurse took the instrument. "97.2, that just what we want. Looks like your fever finally broke. You're up just in time for lunch service. We'll get something into that empty belly and your brother and his boyfriend will be back before you know it; they just needed a little air."

Stefan stared, train of thought side-railed by the thought of food, before they were completed overhauled by the following sentence as the words finally penetrated his conscious. "What?"

She stood at the foot of his bed, jotting a note in his chart. "You're lucky to have such a caring brother. Him and that cute history teacher of his from the high school, no one could mistake the love they have for you. Ah, but your girlfriend, the brunette—definite keeper." She replaced the chart. "An orderly will be by shortly with that food tray, hon."

Stefan stared after her as she left and continued to stare; ' _Your brother and **his** **boyfriend**. That cute history teacher of his from the high school'. _ She thought Damon and Alaric were boyfriends. Of course that was a safe and obvious assumption, even if it wasn't true—so why did it make his chest hurt?

Alaric was a 33 year old man, a teacher, Stefan was a 17 year old kid, his student; vampirism didn't translate in the 'real’ world. If people found out that Alaric was really Stefan's boyfriend, they'd try and put the teacher away for statutory rape—but his disturbance was slightly eased at remembering that his school record claimed that he was 18. Or Alaric would just get fired from Mystic Falls High, his teaching licence suspended pending a inquiry by the School Board. Not the worse case scenario, but wasn't that much better either.

How long would it be before Alaric realized the same thing that it took Stefan on the drive home from the quarry that night, if he hadn't already. Being sick (still seemed like a fantastical concept) and stuck in the hospital was not a point in his favour.

Stefan was brought out of his dark musings as the orderly came with his food. It was a bowl of chicken noodle soup, two little 4 packets of crackers, a small orange juice, and a strawberry Jell-O cup. His stomach grumbled eagerly as he inhaled the broth aroma'd steam and eagerly picked up the provided spoon and dug in; this taking priority at the moment.

The orderly watched him in amusement. "You must either actually like hospital food or you are starving."

Stefan had never had hospital food before, he had been a vampire, what need did he have for it? He could safely say he was glad for it; the soup was watery, the crackers a little too salty, but he was hungry. "Starving." He answered in the brief pause it took to bring the spoon to his mouth.

"I never would have guessed," he chuckled. "I'll be back in a bit to collect your tray."

Stefan could only nod as the orderly left, his mouth full of soup-saturated cracker. It was definitely a sucky second meal, but his empty stomach would always overrule his fussy taste buds; that was why he was able to feed on _road kill_ as Damon had put it.

Finished with the soup, he pushed the plastic bowl aside and pulled the Jell-O cup forward. He peeled back the foil seal. Stefan couldn't remember that last time he'd eaten Jell-O, he tried but nothing surfaced. He ate a spoonful and sucked it through his teeth in amusement as he ate. When he cleared the tray, he put the cover back on and pushed the bed table away, laying back with a sigh, stomach sated for the moment.

Now that he didn't have food as a distraction and deterrent, he was left to wonder exactly how long he'd been here and how many people his brother must have compelled to get it done. He must have been really bad off if Damon even considered to bring him to the hospital, let alone _actually_ bring him.

Still feeling tired and a little weak, with his hunger fulfilled, it was all to easily to succumb to his body's desire for rest despite his precarious position in the hospital.

Stefan laid back and curled onto his side. He pulled the blanket up around his shoulders, scratching at the irritating tape pulling at his skin around the needle. He sighed, his hand lightly curled around the rail by his face, staring through half-lidded eyes atthe ring that now adorned his left ring finger until it slowly faded out and rest took him.

Cool fingers traced down the side of his face. Stefan sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes snapped open, unseeing. Only seeing _Katherine._ His jerked away from the touch. His shoulder blade struck sharply against the metal rail, that if hadn't been there, he otherwise would have tumbled of the edge of the bed and to the tiles floor more painfully. But he hardly felt it with the adrenaline kicking his heart to beat so painfully in his chest it felt unnatural. His top lip drawn back in defence to flash a warning of wicked fang that he no longer possessed.

"Ho, easy! Easy. It's just me, Stef. It's me."

The voice penetrated the primal fog and Stefan's vision cleared to focus on a pale face with dirty-blond hair. His lip lowered back over his teeth and he slump back into the bed, all the energy and tension leaving him exhausted.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Alaric apologized quietly, slowly reach through the rail like Stefan would jerk away, but the human didn't as the teacher laid his hand over his on the bed between them, Stefan still pressed to the other side of the bed. "The nurse told me you woke up, but you were asleep when I came in, I didn't want to wake you, but it looked like your were starting to dream bad and when I touched you--"

"You saw into my head," Stefan said.

Alaric grimaced. "It just popped into my head when I touched you. Katherine, like a flash. I didn't mean to, Stefan, I swear. I know how you feel about it and I would never do it on purpose--!"

Stefan turned his hand over under his, squeezing the man's hand. "I know." At least it was just a flash of Katherine and nothing else, there would be no questions about him having a nightmare about Katherine, other things, his true fears, not so much.

His gaze shifted behind Alaric's head and on the closed blind behind him and actually remembered the he was _here_ in the _hospital_ where the whole place smelt like a _blood buffet_ to a vampire, and especially like a all-you-can-eat-blood-buffet to a Ripper or a bampi. His eyes snapped back to the vampire and he raised himself up on an elbow, "Are you okay to be here? All this blood must be driving you crazy," he said with sensitivity; Alaric swallowed at the reminder. "You don't have to push yourself before you're ready just because of me."

"I'm doing alright." Alaric squeezed his hand in assurance. "The first day, when we brought you was the most difficult—there was a man, he was injured, blood _everywhere_ and it just smelt so good, they took him _right_ passed me. I dug my fingers so hard into the armrests that I gave myself splinters, it anchored me to the chair and stopped me from actually going after the guy but he left blood on the floor right in front of me and I was just transfixed. Didn't even realize that I inching toward it until a mop swept right through it and broke me out of the trace. There have been a couple more close calls when I couldn't stop my face from showing, but I've come up with a few methods to help me control the urge jump every bleeding wound that passes by."

Stefan couldn’t help but stare at him with envy and admiration. "You're a good vampire, Ric."

Alaric shook his head. "I've just had other, more pressing things to keep me distracted from all the temptation in this place."

Stefan glanced at there clasped hands on the bed. "So it's a good thing I got sick then, to distract you."

"No, it's not," Alaric countered. "But nice attempt to put a spin on it."

Stefan sighed and shifted on the bed so he was lain more comfortably. "How long have I been in here anyway?"

"3 days," Alaric squeezed his hand. "It's Friday."

"3 days?!" Stefan exclaimed in shock, bolting upright. "What the hell happened to me?"

"You were sick as a dog," Damon came into the room without knocking, closing the door behind him. "Had you actually been a dog, I would have just put you out of your misery." He crossed his arms over his chest as he stood at the foot of the bed.

"You came down with a fever," Alaric elaborated.

Stefan furrowed his brows. "Like when I was little?" he looked at his brother.

"In that dramatic way you have, you went a step further than that, brother."

"What--?" Stefan looked between them even more confused.

"You weren't in your right mind, Stefan." Damon retorted sharply. "You were about to jump off your balcony when Alaric found you. Had he been a second slower--" he suddenly slapped his hands together in a to-the-chase demonstration, making the couple jolt. "Splat!"

Stefan was stunned at the revelation, his gaze turned away as he tried to remember. He went to bed, fell asleep surprisingly fast for how racing and scrambling his mind had been, the unfamiliar _alive_ feelings his body was transmitting. He didn't remember if he had dreamed, but he dragged up the memory of hunger. "I was... hungry," he said slowly. "So I was going to go for a hunt and feed."

Damon blurred to his side in a blink, fist balled in his gown, yanking the tie at the back of his neck loose. "You're _human_ now, Stefan!" the teen flinched at the reminder, "that means there is no balcony shortcuts, not hunting and no need for blood. There are just stairs, front doors, and foodstuff."

Alaric was on his feet in an instant, his chair skittering back against the wall with a squeal. "Easy, Damon!" he growled. "It wasn't his fault, he woke up fevered and did what he's done for the past 74 years."

Damon stared at the teacher for a moment with a tight gaze before he inhaled deeply and took a step back. There was an uncomfortable silence before Stefan asked his big brother hesitantly: "When can I get out of here?"

"The doctor will be here in a minute, he'll check you over and if he says your good, then you can go. Otherwise, you're not going anywhere."

"But--" Stefan started only to seal his lips at Damon's glare. There was silence and suddenly Stefan realized how loud he seemed to be breathing; did it always sound like that or was he just imagining it? Maybe it was because he actually needed the oxygen and his body was trying to get as much as it could with each breath.

The doctor finally came and Damon shifted back to his original spot at the foot as the man checked out the teen's chart.

"How are you feeling, Mr Salvatore?"

"Great," Stefan answered instantly, "Better."

The doctor nodded, probably took his answer with a grain of salt and started the exam, Stefan enduring with impatient patience as the man retook his temperature, shined a light down his throat and in his eyes, put a scope in his ears. The doctor pulled loose the tie on his gown at his shoulder blades and pulled it down, first placing the end of the stethoscope to his chest to listen to his heart, then back to listen to his lungs; Stefan gave a sharp shiver at the cold of the metal against his sensitive skin, goose bumps crawling across his exposed skin.

Finally, the doctor stepped back and Stefan exhaled. It was over. "So am I--" he stopped as he noticed the doctor setting up a sterile tray. "Wait, what is that for?" Stefan pulled away a little warily.

"Your immunization shot. Your chart says you've never had one and I want to give it to you before we release you," the doctor explained.

"You'll let me go if I get the shot?" the doctor nodded and Stefan practically threw his arm at the man. Needles had never bee a good experience for him, as a vampire there was no use for a syringe medically, just torturously filled with vervain. But he wasn't a vampire anymore, he was human and while in this state (as short as he intended it to be) he might as well be safe with himself for that time being.

The doctor pulled the gown off over his right shoulder and swiped a patch of skin low over his black rose tattoo on his shoulder and Stefan stilled. There was the sharp pinch of the needle piercing his vulnerable skin, then the syringe emptying into his warm flowing blood before it was extracted and a cotton ball pressed and taped over. The doctor then removed the IV needle in his forearm with the same treatment.

"I just need your signature on the discharge papers," the doc addressed Damon, cleaning up. "And you're all free to go." Damon's gaze flickered between the teen and the teacher before he followed the doctor out.

Stefan rotated his arm for a moment and looked at Alaric, who was absolutely still. "You alright?"

Alaric cleared his throat. "Yeah." Because it might have just been a few drops that touched open air, but it was _Stefan's_ blood and to him, it smelled like someone gutted the brunette.

"It **will** get better," Stefan insisted softly.

"I know," _it just doesn't ever feel like it right now._ "I just don't want there to ever be a reason I have to smell your blood."

"Don't worry," he found the release on the bed rail and lowered it. "This won't be for long." Stefan didn't notice the look that Alaric quickly smothered at the off-hand comment. He threw the blanket off and ignore the cold tile under his bare feet. "Am I going to have to walk out in this gown or did you--?" he turned to find the vampire setting his gym bag that the teen hadn't noticed before onto the bed. Stefan grinned and pulled it towards him eagerly. "I totally would have walked out like this if I had to," he unzipped the bag, his buckle boots sitting on top and clothes folded underneath.

"Do you want--" Alaric started, but stopped abruptly able to do nothing but stare and watch.

Stefan arched his back slightly as he reached behind himself and found the ties holding his gown together and pulled the knots free, shedding the garment right there and leaving it as a puddle at his feet and leaving himself stark. He dug in the duffle and found his boxer-briefs, stepping into them. Followed by a comfortable pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a pullover sweater, and his jacket; if his calculations were right without looking at the calendar for the past week, it was the start of December and with his current low tolerance to temperature, there was going to be a bit of a nip in the air. He leaned against the bed to pull on socks and slip on his boots.

When he finally looked up, dressed, it was to find Alaric staring at him with dark eyes. "What?" he gave a small smile.

Alaric licked his lips. "Just glad to see you up."

The smile grew. "I'm just glad to see you. Period. And to break the mood, I have to, um..." he glanced over his shoulder at the little cubicle bathroom in his room.

Alaric chuckled and gave a small headshake. "It would have been a tight fit anyway."

Stefan just flashed him an out-of-the-loop look and went to the washroom, turning on the light and pulling closed the fold-away plastic door. He emptied his full bladder and stared at his reflection as he washed his hands. He looked pale and pasty, like he'd just gotten over something. His cheeks and jaw darkening with stubble. His hair a bit lank and darker, greasy from lack of wash over the past 3 days as he sweated out the fever. It was probably just going to be the same as that night home from the quarry; shower, eat, sleep.

When he came out, Damon and Alaric were already waiting for him. Stefan didn't wait and headed straight for the door. His strides were long as he quickly and efficiently followed the directional signs. When he breathed, he didn't smell the blood, only that terrible hospital scent; but a quick glance at Alaric, though he looked normal to any casual viewer, Stefan could see the tight set of his jaw as the scent of blood would overpower even the hospital smell to a vampire.

Through two sets of double doors and Stefan got his first breath of crisp, fresh air and his freedom. He started to turn on the walk towards the parking lot but quickly found it unnecessary. "Damon, this is where ambulances drive." Stefan noted with great disapproval at his brother's flippant action of a parking space.

"Saint Stefan, rearing his righteous indignation for the little people," was Damon's response, looking across the roof of his car at him. "Stop dawdling and get in already so I can free up this precious parking space, huh?" he patted the roof and climbed in.

Stefan sighed and got into the front seat while Alaric climbed in the back, he put on his seatbelt before Damon pulled out of the emergency way and into traffic.

"Can we stop somewhere to get something to eat?" the brunette questioned as his stomach started to act out again. "I'm starving."

"You just got out of the hospital, Stefan. That last thing you're going to be doing is going out to eat." Damon told him.

"Last I remember, the cupboards were going a little bare at the house," Stefan said. "Is there even anything good to eat?"

"I didn't just sit at your fevered bedside waiting for you to wake up, alright?"

Stefan raised a brow. "You went shopping? Alone?" Alaric snickered from the backseat and Damon shot a glare at the pair of them. "Do you even know what people eat?"

"Of course I do. All anybody around this town does is eat and drink, just fattening themselves in wait for the nature of things to take course," he flashed a fang suggestively at his brother.

Stefan snorted. "You're a tamed pussycat now, Damon, drinking your milk from a bowl."

"Watch it, brother, or I might just slip out the open door and go feral again."

Stefan laughed.

"Don't worry, Stefan." Alaric spoke up. "Elena went with him."

When they arrived back at the Boarding House, despite the only one not a vampire, Stefan was the first out of the car and up the porch steps. He quickly shed his boots and jacket at the door and headed straight down the hall towards the kitchen. The hunger pains were just not letting up! he didn't remember being this hungry the last time he was human.

He gnawed on his lips as he quickly searched through the cupboards and refrigerator, both stocked full. Stefan needed something fast, something he could literally sink his teeth into; he couldn't face another bowl of soup right now. He needed something _solid._ Head in the fridge, he quickly started to gather foodstuff and condiments into his arms, setting it around the chopping board on the island counter. He quickly laid out 2 pieces of whole wheat bread and slathered 1 end with low fat Miracle Whip, the other with spicy mustard; he could already see Elena's healthy hand in the shopping. He folded a couple slices of juicy roast beef lunchmeat on the mustard piece, cheese slices, a quickly sliced tomato followed, with some pickles and a shredded leaf of Romaine lettuce. His mouth had already been slavering since he opened the roast beef. He pressed the second slice on top, not even wasting the time to cut it before he picked it up and sunk his eager teeth into it. Without even looking, he hooked his toe around the leg of a nearby stool and dragged it under his butt, moaning all the while as he tore the first piece off.

He chewed with rapture, eyes closed as he tasted each differing layers separately, before combined as he swallowed. He could just picture in his mind’s eye, it going down his oesophagus and then dropping into his empty, eager stomach acid and felt satisfaction. He immediately took another bite and another, his contentment growing each time until there was nothing but crumbs on his fingers.

Suddenly, food tasted 5x better than it had when he was a vampire with heightened senses. As if now that the food consumed actually curbed and sated his hunger, if temporarily, it gave more meaning to the consumption; the taste, texture, temperature.

"If I was into food-porn..." an amused voice mused across the island.

Stefan slowly licked his lips to find Alaric leaning back against counter, dark mug in hand, freshly showered and changed, his hair darker with damp. The teen couldn't detect steam rising from the mug so he took the safe assumption that it was blood; good. He smiled, "Hate to rile you up when I can't give you that happy ending we both so want." He winked.

"Mm," Alaric hummed in agreement as he tipped to cup to his lips, the shadow of veins around his eyes as he drank, staring across at the brunette. "Still." His tongue swiped the blood from his pink lips as he lowered the mug, green eyes followed the motion.

"I'll make you 1," Stefan declared. "Despite you being on a liquid diet now, doesn't mean a solid thing or 2 isn't good for you."

"You don't have to," he gave the token protest as he came and sat on the stool at the corner by him, setting his mug down, Stefan already setting to work.

"Maybe _I_ am into food porn," Stefan teased, layering the contents of the sandwich, grinning as he heard the low rumble from the vampire. Holding the top piece with his fingers on the edges of the bread, he cut it diagonally in half with the butcher knife. "Voilà,"

"Thanks, Stefan. It looks good," he took a big bite.

"Ooh, yeah. That's it, Ric. Just like that baby. Mm. So hot," Stefan purred to him, giving him green hooded bedroom eyes, pink bottom lip caught sensually between his teeth.

Alaric's eyes widened and he choked, completely unprepared, setting the sandwich half down and Stefan giggled at him, giving the dirty-blond a wink as he thumped his chest and cleared his throat, picked up the mug and washed the remains down with a gulp of cold blood.

"Sorry," Stefan grinned as Alaric gave him a rather unimpressed, if a little turned-on look at the brunette doing a little dirty talk which he'd never really heard before. "I couldn't help myself," he reached across and thumbed away the bit of blood at the corner of the vampire's lips.

He went to withdraw but Alaric took hold on his hand and eyes locked with his boyfriend's, wrapped his lips around the digit. Stefan exhaled in a stutter as he felt Alaric's tongue brush against the pad of his thumb, gently swirling his tongue to collect all traces of blood from the creases of his print, sucking gently. Stefan felt his body grow warm and his cock start to stir and all too soon the teacher released his thumb gleaming in saliva to press a kiss to the palm of his hand, then release him entirely.

Stefan shifted in the stool and Alaric gave him a little knowing smirk, then a wink and picked back up the sandwich half and took another bite. "Sexual revenge is a double-edged sword, Ric." He murmured, screwing the lids to the jars, and twisting up bags.

Alaric didn't dignify that with an answer and just turned on the stool and leaned over to pull open the fridge door as he finished the half. Arms loaded, Stefan ducked into the machine and shelved the contents, Alaric smacked his ass before he stood. Stefan chuckled as he straightened, closing the door as he turned to find Alaric with his feet propped on the crossbar on the stool legs, holding the second half of the sandwich with both hands, his blue eyes wide with glowing innocent mischief as he ate.

"I'm going to take a shower," Stefan informed him slowly, stepping forward and closing the short distance. "I need one, as you can no doubt smell even without heightened vampire-senses." He leaned forward, hands on the edge of the island, bracketing the vampire, but careful not to touch.

"I didn't want to say anything,"

"Mm, as is only polite," he slowly inched his face forward—and took a bite of the sandwich piece between them. Alaric watched as he chewed, his stubbled jaw working, the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, tongue slowly tracing across lips to collect any crumbs. "Compliments to the chef," he pressed as kiss to the dirty-blond's cool, pale forehead.

"You shouldn't sexually frustrate a vampire," he pouted, popping the last bite into his mouth haughtily. "It's particularly selfish."

"A double-edged sword," Stefan reminded as he straightened. And backing towards the door, couldn't help but get one last hot lick in: "There's no need to wonder exactly what I'm going to be doing in that shower," he winked, Alaric's eyes going pitch in arousal and nearly skipped down the hall.

He climbed the stares slowly, felling a bit winded by the time he set foot on the top landing and headed for his room; wondering where Damon had gotten off to. He paused as he stepped into his bedroom, pushing the door closed behind him. Something felt _off_ , like something was out of place; but as he slowly started to survey his room with narrowed eyes, he quickly got distracted as his gaze lighted on Salvatore's fishbowl set on the cleared spot on his dresser shelf.

"Hey, buddy!" Stefan grinned as he went over. His fingertip tracing against the glass, but instead of startling like a regular fish, Salvatore brushed his fins against the glass back as he swam by in long greeting. "Remember me? I didn't forget about you, promise. Just ran into a little, ex-girlfriend trouble." He opened the little container next to the bowl and sprinkled some food flakes into the water; Salvatore eagerly swam around, eating. "But it looks like Elena took great care of you, huh? Even cleaned your bowl by the looks of it. Gonna have to thank her properly for that next time I see her." He watched the fish for a few minutes longer before he straightened and went to his wardrobe for a change of comfortable clothes.

He stripped down to his underwear and put his clothes in the hamper before he went into the bathroom. He showered, scrubbing days of sweat and hospital smell from his pores, went to the washroom. It felt good to brush the fuzz from his teeth and floss. He combed his wet hair back but otherwise left it unstyled as he inspected the dark stubble on his face, wondering if he should shave it or leave it.

It made him look older, made him appear at least 20, it was a trick he used when he stayed somewhere to attend college and university, or wanted to inhabit a career and stay for more than a handful of years. If he was careful... he could milk it for nearly 10 years, but never longer than that, not unless he wanted to start using makeup and hair dye to age himself up.

He knew, in his gut, that he was going to need it soon, but it was too early to pull it out now so he filled the sink with warm water and took out the shaving cream and razor from the medicine cabinet. He was 17 but if he wanted to be with Alaric, he couldn't be, nor could he stay in his current condition.

Stefan patted his face dry with a face towel, clean-shaven and back to looking like a fresh-faced teenager. With a sigh, he dressed and left the bathroom. With a glance at his alarm clock, he saw it was only 7 p.m., too early to sleep even though he knew he would if he laid down. He stopped short as he finally noticed it, that something _off_ about his room that had been almost too subtle to notice, but subconsciously had warning bells ringing.

"What the hell?"

Stefan reached out and touched the doorknobs on his balcony doors that were not the originals, they used to be push handles. He twisted the dark brass knobs and pulled, but they were locked. He traced the setting, there was no push lock but instead a deadlock which could only be opened with a key—a key that he didn't have!

"Damon," he uttered in realization, it was the only conclusion he could come to. ' _I didn't just sit at your fevered bedside waiting for you to wake up, alright?'_ Oh, there were so many things that sentence of his brother's could encompass other than apparently grocery shopping with Elena. Stefan gnashed his teeth as he straightened. "Damon!" he shouted furiously, turning on his heel and storming from his room and down the hall towards the vampire's bedroom. He just passed the stairs when Damon was suddenly standing in front of him.

"You called?"

Stefan gave him a shove, only putting him back half a step and causing him to raise a brow. "You changed the lock on my balcony doors without my permission or knowing while I was in the hospital?!"

Damon's eyes flashed. "Yes," he said succulently. "Is that all?"

"Is that--?" he sputtered. "What the hell made you think you had the right to go into my room and mess with my space?! Give me the key!" he held out him hand demandingly.

Damon scoffed. "What do you need to open it for anyway? It's winter; with your luck you'll catch a draft and end up back at the hospital."

Stefan rolled his eyes. "Just because I _human_ now," he spat the word, "Doesn't mean that gives you right to try and control my life, I won't tolerate it."

"Oh, you won't tolerate it?" he mused. His blues eyes hardened and narrowed, "And what exactly do you plan to do about it if I did, huh?" he jabbed Stefan in the chest with more than human strength, sending him back several steps with a flinch of pain. "You're just a weak, puny _human_ now," another jab, more stumbling steps back, "Not that you put up much of a challenge even when you were a vampire." Jab, more bruises. "So I don't know what you think you're going to do now." His hand moved again, but Stefan slapped it away.

"Don't," he warned.

"Stop me and I will," Damon's vamp-face flashed in the dim lighting of the hallway and he shoved the teen, sending him flying down a short stretch of hall with a cry, his foot catching on the corner of the old rug that lined the floor. He crashed hard on the floor on his butt and back with a grunt, the wind knocked out of him. "You were saying?" Damon sneered down at him.

Stefan stared up at him with a slightly shocked gaze, his heart racing in his chest.

There was a blur that Stefan's eyes couldn't track and Alaric suddenly had Damon shoved against the wall, his vamp-face out. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Just teaching my baby brother a nice little life lesson, stay out of it." Damon easily shoved the bampi off.

"Like hell you are," Alaric growled. "You're not touching him."

Damon gave a dark smirk. "I can tear through you like that," he blurred behind Alaric, snapped by his ear with the same speed and was back to his previous spot in a second. "I can stake you in the lung and you'll heal easily enough, I can snap your neck and you'll come back good as new, even better than that Gilbert ring you had. So don't wax lyrical to me able my baby brother, _Ric_ ; not until you've known him more than a month or been a vampire more that a week. He needs to learn--"

"By you shoving him around just after he got out of the hospital?"

Still on the floor, Stefan listened to them. He listened and _heard_ the truth behind what they were saying, what they've **all** said. _'You're weak, Stefan.' 'What use are you?' 'You'll just get in the way, Stefan.' 'You break, you always do.' 'You're not strong enough.' 'You didn't do anything, Stefan.' 'You always were pathetic, brother.' 'Weak, Stefan. That's what you are, weak!'_ He felt tears burn behind his eyes at the assault, but blinked them back and swallowed the hitch in his breath.

"I'm not weak," Stefan whispered so quietly that they only would have heard had they actually been paying him any attention. He pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the ache under his skin. "Shut up," Stefan snapped, "The both of you!" they looked over at him like they really had forgotten he was there to start their fight over in the first place, and it just fuelled the teen. "I don't need to be treated like an infant; I've survived in this world longer than you," he told Alaric. "And survived a 145 years without your good input," he directed at Damon. "So I sure as hell don't need this now."

"You've done a good job of it so far," Damon muttered derisively but Stefan heard it anyway.

"I'd just come back from the dead!" he jumped down their throats scathingly, ignoring their visible flinches. "Sorry if my equilibrium was off." He glared between the 2 of them, "So this bullshit better come to an end, or it's going to be something all 3 of us regret." He didn't give them time to respond and pushed passed them, going down the stairs.

Neither tried to follow after him and it was a good thing too, because he felt about ready to start punching things, no matter the damage it would do to himself. Stefan was used to lingering pains, with his slowed healing properties as a vampire who had been surviving off of animal blood, but at least it had dulled the pain for him. Human now, it would just linger longer, ache more acutely—but it wouldn’t matter, he didn't intend to stay this way long enough for something like that to really matter.

He headed for the kitchen, pausing to grab a tea towel from the drawer before he opened the basement door, turned on the overhead bulb and went down the stairs. The stone and packed dirt beneath was cold through his socks, but he ignored it as he confidently transversed the dim tunnels to his destination. He opened the barred, reinforced metal door and stepped into the cellar, going behind a cross section of stone where the glow of the hung sunlamp was bright and the growth of vervain plants crowded in the garden table.

He stop and stared. Rationally, he knew it couldn't harm him anymore, he was human; but that frantic illogical part of him, the 145 year old vampire part, all it could think about, was the sprig in his palm, the acidity of the poison _melting_ his skin; the vervain soaked ropes burning and rubbing layer after layer of his skin off, just shy of meeting bone beneath, vervain spilling like liquid fire down his nape and back, eating into his skin, flesh sizzling. He closed his eyes, banished the thoughts with a deep breath, and reached out with a slightly trembling hand. His fingertip brushed the tiny bundle of tight flowers at the head of the sprig, but there was no pain, it was just a plant to him now, a weed as civilians who didn't know of the supernatural thought them.

He picked a few mature sprigs from the lot and carefully wrapped them in the tea towel, and tucked the small bundle into his pant pocket. Since he was already down there, he attended the plants before he left the cellar and went back upstairs to the kitchen. He washed his hands in the sink with dish soap and searched for a snack that he knew he was going to be wanting soon. Nothing really caught his fancy until he peeked into the fridge freezer and his green gaze alighted on the pint of Chunky Monkey nestled on the shelf and he grabbed it without thought. A spoon shoved into his back pocket and he was good to go for the night.

Stefan paused at the bottom of the stairs as Alaric slowly came out of the parlor, fiddling with an empty tumbler in his hands.

"Stef,"

"I'm just going up to my room, I need to be alone for a little while," Stefan told him gently. "Ric,"

His blue eyes flickered with sadness as he caught sight of the ice cream container, no doubt thinking of the same thing Stefan had when he saw it and Stefan felt an ache in his chest that was not the bruises that Damon no doubt gave him.

Stefan glanced down at it, scraping a blunt fingernail through the thin layer of frost on the outside of the carton. "It's your favourite, there's more in the freezer if you want some." Alaric gaze a miniscule headshake. "I don't recall ever having a sweet tooth before, sweets were really rare back then, I preferred savoury things anyway. And then when I turned it became all about the blood." His voice took on a hushed constitution of remembrance, "Human blood was a savoury sauce, so smooth and consuming. Animal blood was like a shot of wheatgrass; it was earthy and bitter, an acquired taste." He grimaced, "Her vampire blood was a saccharine caramel melting on my tongue, sticking to my palate, my fangs, coating my throat--" Stefan jumped as there was a sudden popping sound, pulled from his head. He looked over at Alaric to find the vampire very taut and tense, his expression compressed. He glanced at his hands, "Did you break it?"

After a moment, Alaric gave a weighted exhale, slowly opening his hands, the glass in his palm. "Just cracked."

"Ric, I didn't--"

"It wasn't the blood. Well, it was but it was really... _her_." He looked over at the brunette from the fractured tumbler in his hand. "I was _useless_ in there, Stefan."

"You were only there because I couldn't play along. I tried to kill her twice and both times she overpowered me. I wasn't strong enough, not to kill her, not to stop her from turning you." Stefan corrected softly. "I love you and all I've done since we've met was get you hurt, and killed, and turned. I've done nothing but plague your life with misery. It's just some sick, vicious cycle, from me to Damon to you—and soon enough it'll be Bonnie and Elena, too."

"Shut up," Alaric said, and Stefan looked up at him with as much surprise as the vampire had. "To repeat what you said upstairs." He set the cracked glass on the side table and carded his hand through his dirty-blond locks. "Goddamn it, Stefan. We can't keep doing this. Can't keep taking the blame. It was _Katherine's_ fault, she did this. She is to blame." He stepped forward, his hand resting on the end balustrade of the banister. "And she's dead. She got what she deserved and she's out of our lives."

"You think it's that easy?" Stefan murmured.

"It won't be," Alaric acknowledged. "What happened to you, even if you were a vampire, was not an easy thing. But Damon killed her and Bonnie burnt her to ashes; she's gone. The only way Katherine can hurt us now," he reached out and gently took Stefan's left hand, his fingers cold and damp from the ice cream container and held it up, his thumb caressing his old Gilbert ring that now adorned the human's ring finger, right where Katherine had put it. "Is if you let her, Stefan. If you let the past get into your head and take over your heart. Don't let her win." He repeated the sentiment. "Don't let her break you—break us."

Unshed tears glinted on his lashes as Alaric mirrored what he had done before and rose Stefan's hand, pressing his lips to fingers and ring. Stefan swallowed, throat feeling too constricted to spit words out, if he even had any. It was true, Katherine was dead but she still managed to stay in his head, like a demon perched on his shoulder whispering poison in his ear, digging her fangs into his insecurities, feeding off them—and he didn't know how to banish her.

The vampire was reluctant to release his hand, to let him go but he did anyway. "Goodnight, Stefan." He headed back into the parlor, taking the cracked tumbler back in hand.

Stefan started back up the stairs but paused. "Where's Damon?"

"He left,"

Stefan gave a light scoff, "Figures. Goodnight, Ric."

He locked his bedroom door, not like it could bar a vampire from entering, but it felt like it gave him more privacy despite the true lack thereof that it provided. He set the melting ice cream on the reading table, moving papers out of the way so they wouldn't get damaged by the dripping condensation.

He was about to search for his cell phone to text the girls when he remembered that he lost his when Lucy fried his brain and John Gilbert vervained him on the street. He sighed, he was just going to have to buy _another_ one. He wondered, for the first time, which they went through, the witch or the uncle, to find him. He guessed he didn't really care as long as he never saw either again his life.

He took off the lid and peeled back the plastic seal, he broke the smooth surface with the spoon from his back pocket. Stefan only intended to have a bite before he set about his initial task, but gave a little moan at the combination of banana, walnuts, and fudge; next thing he knew, he slid into a chair at the table and finished it before it could melt through. He groaned, laying his head down in his folded arms for a minute as he fought the urge to have a nap.

He forced himself up and wiped his mouth. He went to his closet and pulled out a foot chest, knelt in front of it and unlatched it, opening the lid. He searched its disorganised contents; it full of trinkets and precious items. Not necessarily _expensive_ items, but things that held an sentimental value. He was slightly a hoarder, you could say, the attic of the Boarding House crowded in dusty crates and boxes that he hadn't looked in in decades; even things from dark periods in his past, like his apartment in Chicago when he was the Ripper for 11 years. A reminder, that list in the hidden room behind the pantry, the names of all the people he had fed from and killed, written in their own blood.

"Ah," he pulled the belt out, running the leather strap through his palm. It was a trick belt, Lexi had won it for him on his birthday at a tri-state fair in New York in 1967. The gear mechanism in the clasp buckle broke around the third time he used it that same night, but he'd kept it. Stefan closed the chest and pushed it back into his closet. He sat at his computer desk, turned on the lamp and took out a small, soft tool kit from a drawer. After some tinkering with it, he managed to remove the gears, leaving the clasp hollow and inert.

He filled it with vervain like he had the locket he'd given to Elena and locked it so it wouldn’t spring open. He took his wallet, which Bonnie had returned to him along with his other things and carefully cut the outside seam stitching in the worn leather with the scalpel from the kit and filled the lining with vervain as well, before he stitched it back up, the alteration not even noticeable. It was in his vampirehood that he learned the useful skill, particularly in 1942. He put the kit away and locked the remaining vervain wrapped in the tea towel in the drawer in his bureau. By the time he looked up at the clock, it was a few minutes passed 11 p.m. It wasn't that late, but he was tired and he knew that tomorrow, at the least was probably going to be an emotionally draining one when Elena and Bonnie came over and they finally had that **talk** about him coming back from the dead with magic as a human.

So he threw away the empty ice cream carton, wiped away the condensation ring from the tabletop before it could mark it and brushed his teeth. He stripped his socks and sweater off and turned out the light before he crawled under the covers.

~ T V D ~

Stefan woke, looked blurrily at the clock on his nightstand. 9:03 a.m. Groaned, rolled to the other side of the bed, face in his pillow and fell back asleep. When he woke next the clock read 11:19 and he made himself get up, jaw cracking as he yawned on his way into the en suite, jerking his curtains open on the way to let the noon sun in, feeling like he could sleep till dinner time. But the thought of food set his empty stomach off and determined his path; he'd already missed the most important meal of the day according to Reader's Digest, he wasn't going to miss another. He used the toilet and washed his face and styled his hair at the sink, rubbing at the pillowcase creases on his cheek.

He slipped on a pair of black jeans and looped the vervain belt through the loops, and slipped on a navy, round-necked t-shirt with a pocket on the left breast. He fed Salvatore before he left and he gave a glare at his balcony doors; he already had plans to get a key, it didn't necessarily have to be _Damon's_ key, it was just a matter of him getting into town.

Downstairs, his stomach led him straight to the kitchen. Musing what he should eat, as he perused the fridge’s contents with a mind of lunch and missed breakfast; he settled on an omelette. He cracked a couple eggs in a bowl and whisked them as he put a frying pan on the flame to preheat; he mixed in chopped chives, mushroom, tomato and a pinch of cayenne pepper, sprinkling shredded cheese on it before he folded it in half. He hardly had the patience to slid it onto a plate and made up for it by eating it right there standing at the counter.

Hunger happily satisfied, he used his upbeat mood and washed the dishes from lunch and last night's supper instead of putting it in the dishwasher. He poured himself a tall glass of OJ before he left.

"You locked your bedroom door, real mature, Stefan." Damon greeted him in the hall without warning, catching the teen mid-drink, probably hoping to make him do a spit-take.

Stefan didn't give him the satisfaction; he didn't sputter or choke, the swallow went down a little hard, but he didn't show the outward grimace. "You changed the locks on my balcony doors, real mature, Damon." He stepped around his brother and continued down the hall.

"I was doing you a favor," Damon retorted, dogging him. "The security of those things were atrocious. A knob push lock, seriously? It was no wonder Katherine was able to crawl into your bed so easily."

Stefan spun on his heel, his good mood evaporating in an instant. " _Screw you,_ " he said harshly, his grip white-knuckled on the glass. In a previous life, it would have shattered, now his hand just shock from the pressure.

"Is that the best you got?" he challenged.

"What the hell is your problem?" Stefan barked in frustration. "Just give me the damn key!"

"Sure. When I can trust you not to fling yourself off the balcony in a fantasy to be a vampire again."

"I was sick--"

"You're just lucky I didn't board the whole thing up!"

"This is _my_ life," Stefan hissed furiously.

" _Exactly."_ Damon snarled, a shadow of veins appearing under his eyes, there and gone so fast Stefan couldn't be sure it wasn't just a mistaken shadow. They glared daggers at each other.

"Whoa, easy!" Bonnie announced her and Elena's presence in the front hall.

"It's hardly even noon," Elena looked between them. "And you're fighting?"

"Just a brotherly spat." Damon passed them into the sitting room. "He'll get over it once he realizes he doesn't have a choice in the matter."

"Stefan?" Elena laid a hand on his back.

Stefan heaved a sigh. "It's fine." He faced them and took a sip of orange juice. "He's just being a dick, it's not like that's anything new."

"I thought you guys were doing good?" Elena protested quietly.

Bonnie silently agreed with that. "You should have seen him earlier this week when you first got your fever—he was like a momma bear with her cub."

Stefan was silent at that. Damon always used to take care of him when he was sick as a child. Father didn't bother, it wasn't a man's job. His mother couldn't due to her own ailments. And the nurse maids tasked with caring for him were strangers he didn't trust. But Damon, who had no obligation to tend him, did, even when it brought their father’s ire onto him.

"It's been a stressful week for everyone," Elena rubbed his arm. "He's just worried and acting out."

Stefan already knew this. He also knew the he was an utter hypocrite because if their roles were reversed, Stefan would be the same way. But he still felt furious and annoyed at his brother's overbearing responses. He sighed again, "Come on."

They followed him to the sitting room, where Damon had already prepared himself a drink and Alaric was sitting off to the side on the piano bench, legs crossed, sipping bourbon.

Elena looked at him with curiosity. "Do you play?"

Alaric's brow wrinkled in confusion before he remembered where he was sitting. "Oh," he chuckled. "No. Not the piano. Used to play the sax in high school, though. And I dabbled with the guitar a bit in collage, but it never really stuck."

"Why do you guys even have it?" She looked between the brothers, across on either side of the room from each other. "Do either of you play?" she and Bonnie sat on the chesterfield.

"Zach used to play," Stefan murmured. The last time he heard his great nephew play was in '94, a time that was best left forgotten in the Salvatore Boarding House. When he'd compelled the man to forget his fiancée Gail, that went with it the piano lessons she'd given them, a music instructor herself.

"Amateur!" Damon coughed into his hand.

"But Damon here," Stefan announced, setting his glass on end table by the wing chair. "He's really the one who knows how to tickle those ivories wet. A real musical talent!" Bonnie looked sceptical. "It's true. It's true."

"What can I say," Damon shrugged amicably, "I always did have the talent in the family."

Stefan snorted. "More like you were afraid of Master Frantello."

"Unlike you, who seemed to love that damn ruler."

Stefan rubbed his hands in remembrance. "You know the saying: if you can play with broken fingers... anyways, you always did have more of an ear for it than me."

"Too bad the vicious old bastard died long before I got the chance to tear his jugular—but not before he played for us." A malice grin twisted the vampire's lips.

"So you play?" Elena summarized after an awkward moment of silence at the confession of the siblings dead music instructor. "Can you play something?" she looked to the vampire.

"Sure, come by Christmas and I'll play you something, put you right in the festive spirit." Damon told her.

Elena smiled at him. "Really?"

"No."

Bonnie glared at him, noting Elena's disappointment. "Grinch much?"

"What do I have to be green about?" he demurred and she rolled her eyes with a scoff.

"Ahem," Alaric cleared his throat. "Can we...?"

"Talk about this already so it never has to be mentioned again?" Stefan provided a suggestion to the unfinished question, drawing eyes to him as he sat in the chair beside his juice.

Bonnie inhaled deeply and turned to her friend. "When you died, your spirit went to what is called the Other Side, it's a purgatory that was created to house dead supernatural beings. Vampire, witches, etc."

"You don't have any recollection of being there?" Alaric asked.

Stefan squinted his eyes, concentrating, trying to think back, to pull a memory from the blank timeless space from when Katherine killed him to when he woke up very disoriented on the shore of the quarry. Sharp pain started to cut into his head he gave up before it could overwhelm him, rubbing his forehead with a faint grimace. "No."

"Well, that was where Emily went after she was burned at the stake by Jonathan Gilbert." Bonnie continued. "It was Emily's spell that brought you back. Using magic from both sides, we healed you and brought you back to your former 'pure' state. It was the balance of nature that brought you back as human instead of your vampire state. I've tried to commune with her since, but she's no longer on the Other Side, she's moved on."

He nodded slowly, remembering vaguely Bonnie telling him much the same back at the quarry. "So why can't you do the same and bring Ric back, or Damon. They could be human too again." He sat forward, "You can--"

"I can't," Bonnie shook her head sadly. "I wish that I could, but I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you're special, Stefan."

"What does that mean? Why me? What's so special about me?" he demanded, on his feet. "What did I do to deserve this?" he lamented, it a double meaning question. _What did I do to deserve this miracle of life, to be able to live again? What did I do to deserve this curse, to be able to live while the man I love was forced to take an undead life, separating us now and forever?_ The demon giggled in his ear at his inner turmoil.

Bonnie sent a quick glance at the others, all knowing the critical thing that he did not. Damon gave her a miniscule chin jerk as he poured another bourbon and walked over to his brother, offering the glass.

Stefan didn't take it, his gaze shooting from the amber filled glass to his brother's stoic face. "What's so special about me?" he repeated.

"Well, you're a doppelganger, brother, just like dear Elena over there."

"What?" he scoffed. "Seriously?" he looked from Damon's unchanging expression to the others who wore a mixture of worry and bated. "Huh. How did you figure that out?"

"It's information Emily gathered on the Other Side." Bonnie answered. "Being a witch, she was able to move around, make contact with other supernatural creatures trapped in their own pockets that hadn't moved on. She encountered 1 of your past doppelgangers, and that was how she created the spell. Doppelgangers are supernatural creatures, they're created by Nature to maintain a natural balance. That was why we were able to bring you back. Doppelganger blood has its own special magical properties. It's own source of magic."

Still trying to process, Stefan took the tumbler from his brother's hand took a gulp of the bourbon, it burned down his throat, making his eyes water as he coughed. Damon took the glass back with a mildly amused glint in his blue eyes as the brunette sat heavily back in the chair.

"Do you think... Katherine knew? About me?" Stefan voiced. "She wasn't exactly surprised at all about Elena looking exactly like her, so she must have known that she was a doppelganger."

"Katherine definitely knew she was a doppelganger," Damon said. "She was too smart and conniving not to have learned something like that about herself after living over 500 years."

And that made Stefan remember something she had told him while in the house, how she was on the run from someone big and scary enough that she couldn't kill, and wondered if it had something to do with her being a doppelganger. He flashed a worried look towards Elena. But Katherine was dead, so it shouldn't matter and he gave it no more thought. "Wait. If we're both doppelgangers," he looked over at Elena, "Then does that mean we're...?" he couldn't seem to say the innocent word but Damon caught where he was going with it easily.

"I'm sure there's probably an intermingling of Salvatore and Gilbert DNA somewhere along the line, just like there was probably fraternization with the Lockwoods, Fells, Forbes... you get the picture, I'm sure. But it's nothing you 2 should worry about," he took a sip of bourbon. "It's not like you slept together. And Katherine was born in the 15th century so I don't think you need to worry about that either, brother."

"No, Stefan." Alaric actually answered his question. "You and Elena aren't related. You're just... the same supernatural species." Stefan looked to him with a raised brow. "This is exactly the kind of stuff Isobel researched. I called Duke while you were in the hospital and got them to ship all her research to Mystic Falls. Some of it has already arrived through express, the rest should get here by Monday. I'm sure that all you _and_ Elena could ever want to know about Doppelgangers will be in there." He reassured the 2 teens.

"Are you okay, Stefan?" Elena asked quietly. "It's can be--"

"It's weird, someone out there could be walking around right now with my face."

"If there is," Damon drawled, "I'm sure he's just as boring and as altruistic as you, Stefan." He went and topped off his glass.

Stefan gave a snort and slumped back into the chair. "Oddly, I find that reassuring."

"I glad I could help," he toasted the air with his glass and downed the contents. "Mm!"

"So, are you going back to school on Monday then, Stefan?" Elena asked after a moment.

"I might as well, don't see a reason why not. I've missed a week and am gonna have to play catch up." He shrugged. "At least this will be the last time I attend high school; 17th times is the charm."

Both teens gaped at him and even Alaric looked surprised.

"You graduated high school 16 times?" Bonnie asked. "Are you crazy?"

"Don't forget the hand full of universities and colleges in between too," Damon remarked. "Crazy doesn't even begin to describe, sister."

"I've been alive fore 162 years, I thought I should at least _learn_ something, do something with that time." Stefan said. "Better than being a drunk serial killing degenerate."

"Is it though?"

"Yes!" was the chorus around the room.

Damon scoffed. "That's just because you all have a stick up your asses and don't know how to have fun. And you can't forget devilishly handsome."

Stefan rolled his eyes at his brother and looked to the other vampire in the room. "What about you, Ric?"

"Oh, well, I always thought I was classically handsome," he joked.

A smirk flickered at the corner of his lips. "I meant school."

"Ah. Well, I don't think I can put it off any longer. It was a fight to just get this week off, and they're counted as my vacation days. I was lucky to get them without being forced to compel the principal after I've only been teaching here for a month. So I don't really have choice if I want to keep my job. I might be a vampire now, but I still have to make a living." He punned.

"Are you sure you can handle that?" Elena wondered gently; worried for the teacher and the teenage population of Mystic Falls High. "I mean, Damon and Stefan have been vampires for the past 145 years, they could control the hunger, but you've only been a vampire for--"

"The last 5 days." Alaric nodded. "I know. But I haven't killed anyone yet and I spent nearly 4 of those in a hospital where people are bleeding constantly. I've been feeding regularly from blood bags; the only person I've feed from was Bonnie when she turned me."

"He'll never learn control if he's isolated from his trigger," Stefan added. "The longer a vampire hides from the temptation, the harder it get's to keep control every time they go into 'civilization."

"I can just put blood into a thermos, everyone will just think I'm having soup or something for lunch." He finished his bourbon. "I can drink from it when I get a craving."

"And if something _does_ happen," Stefan looked back at Alaric. "We'll be there to help." He nodded at the girls.

"The only 1 who has a chance of taking down Big Bad Ric right now is Bon Bon." Damon interrupted cynically. "The Doppelganger Duo would just make some tasty vampire treats."

"I would never hurt them," Alaric denied.

"You telling me," Damon picked up a letter opener from the table and inspected it, "That if sliced those 2 open right now, you would go Rosario Vampire?"

Alaric blurred to his feet, empty tumbler left spinning on the piano bench. He growled, veins threatening around his eyes. "And you think I would just stand here and let you do that, even if I thought you could actually go through with it?"

"That's the thing," he smirked. "You won't know until I do it."

"Jesus Christ, Damon!" Stefan jumped to his feet in anger and exasperation. "Would you just stop with the bullshit threats to make Alaric snap already?"

"That's half my entertainment, little brother." Damon pouted, twirling the point of the letter opener into his fingertip. "I should at least get that while he's staying in my house, rent free."

"Ours," Stefan corrected icily, stepping forward with a glare.

"How about I just burst both your brains?" Bonnie stood calmly, looking challengingly between both vampires.

"Back to school special it is," Damon said.

[...tbc..]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 


	14. CHAPTER 13

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Sunday, Alaric went back home to his apartment for what felt like the first time in weeks, taking a duffle full of blood bags from the freezer with him. Because of his first death, his own stake to the lung thanks to Damon, the threshold barrier on his apartment was null despite him coming back to life. So now that he was a vampire, he wouldn't have a problem getting into his own apartment.

Monday morning Stefan didn't have to wake up earlier than a normal teenager to go out into the woods to hunt for animal blood because he was actually a 145 year old vampire who couldn't handle his human blood. He was a normal teenager now, albeit a 162 year old one thanks to the forces of magic. But a normal teenager nonetheless who woke to the alarm, fed his comet goldfish named Salvatore, showered and shaved and styled his hair, dressed and put on a belt filled with vervain. A normal teenager who went downstairs and ate a eggs and bacon breakfast sandwich as his 168 year old vampire older brother dined on a glass of warm, donated blood. A normal teenager who packed his own lunch for the first time in the previous 16 times he'd attended high school, packed his school bag and waited on the front porch to be picked up by his friend who was a witch and his ex-girlfriend who was the doppelganger of his previous ex-girlfriend—but, you know, it was all relative.

High school was high school, Stefan decided, no matter if you were a true regular 17 year old teenager who didn't know of the true preternatural that lived out there, or 17 year old vampire who had was obsessed at being as human as possible, or a 162 year old 17 year old finally attending high school for the 17th and final time who was also obsessed with becoming a damned vampire again.

To an outside onlooker, you couldn't pick him out of the crowd of teenagers. He was dime a dozen. Sitting at his desk near the back, among the students, Alaric up front at the chalkboard, teaching. Had Stefan never met, never lied about who he was in North Carolina; if he just hadn't made that detour to Duke... that day, rushing into history class and expecting just another substitute—Mr Saltzman would never have given him a second look. When Alaric had realized the truth (not the supernatural part of it), he'd made his position very clear. It wasn’t until the figuring of Stefan being a vampire that they got together. He needed to stop being the naive 17 year old who was turned, and back to the 145 year old vampire that somehow managed to convince Alaric to be with him.

He was human now and the only true difference now, instead of denying the compulsive urge to rip into his fellow students' precious jugular vein and drink all that delicious, consuming life-force (a curse now bestowed upon Alaric)—he was forced to endure a different but truly all the same growing, grumbling emptiness in his stomach as he waited impatiently for the period to end, instead day dreaming of the lunch in his locker like he was some ravenous creature foaming at the mouth.

The 2nd period bell rang and the students quickly packed up their books and scattered, all eager to escape for the hour lunch allotted. Stefan wished he could converge with the stream, but he purposefully dawdled until the class emptied. Center and control the urge, he'd been doing it successfully for the past 74 years, he could do it now. Elena stopped and looked at him, her class books held to her chest. Stefan gave her a go-ahead-I'm-fine head jerk and she left, leaving the classroom empty but for the teacher and student.

Stefan took his bag from the back of his chair and collected his books under his arm as he approached the history teacher's desk at the front of the classroom. Both cast a gaze out the open door into the busy hall, but the passing students paid them no mind, having better things to do.

"You okay?" Alaric looked at him carefully. "You look as jittery as I feel,"

Stefan felt an almost manic laugh well in his chest that he quickly forced back. He was fast learning what a terrible person he was because all he could think right now was: _I'm starving. I'm so fucking hungry right now. I just want to eat and never stop!_ when he knew that was exactly what was going through Alaric's head right now in stereo and on repeat and because Stefan could eat and never stop and it wouldn't matter because he wasn't murdering a person now when he ate to his body's satisfaction. His was a hunger that could be sated, if only for a short time before it returned, just as strong as ever, growing as he tried to deny and control. He was a vampire still, just another parasite after a different substance to gratify himself with, if temporarily. But Alaric could never be truly have that same satisfaction and not have death on his hands, coating his skin.

"Well, you look very stable," Stefan agreed. He set his books down on an empty corner of the desk and opened his bag. He cast another glance out the door, his body angled so if anyone did happen to look in, they would only see his back and not the blood-filled thermos he pulled out of his bag that took up most of the room. "Brought you a refill, thought you might need it."

Alaric exhaled. "Thank you. I really didn't think this whole thing through. Somehow, this is harder than the hospital; there, I didn't have to do anything but focus on not giving into the sweet scent, but here..." he scratched a hand through his hair, "I have to actually _function_ and act like a normal person who isn't being bombarded by the sound of heartbeats and blood flow." He shook his head. "It's exhausting and it just makes me more hungry. I can hear each page turn, scrape of pen, cleared throat— _you_ bouncing your leg like crazy."

"Sorry," he ducked his head as he stuffed his books back into his now empty messenger bag. " _My_ lunch bell literally just rang a few minutes ago."

Alaric gave a light chuckle. "I get it. Go. And thanks for the extra blood, Stef." He murmured a little more quietly, leaning in a little.

"I'll see you later," he adjusted the strap on his shoulder and left the classroom. As soon as he hit the scattered flow of students in the hall, he blended easily and hastened his pace back towards his locker, his mind now prominently back onto his own hunger and the delicious solution the resided temptingly in a paper bag on the top shelf of his locker.

He threw himself on the chair next to Elena at the table in the cafeteria, Bonnie seated on her other side and didn't have the patience so he simply tore open the paper bag to get at the contents.

"Are you going to actually eat that or inhale it?" Bonnie muttered, impressed.

"I'm starving!" Stefan explained, pausing long enough at the halfway marker of his sandwich to take a couple swallows of water. "Like, all the time!" he complained, dividing his attention between the rest of his sandwich and the container of chopped veggies and dip he'd packed with it.

"You're a growing boy now, Stefan." Elena mused. "You need all those calories." Stefan just grumbled to their amusement, his cheek protruded like a cute little chipmunk as they finished their own lunch at a more controled pace.

The warning bell rang and the lunch room slowly packed up and cleared, and Stefan's hunger was sated once more for the moment. The following 2 periods were uneventful and passed fast enough until the end of the day bell rung. Stefan managed to fit the day's current assigned homework, and the accumulated stuff he'd missed the past week into his bag and pulled the strap over his head to rest on his jacket-covered shoulder. He told Bonnie and Elena he'd meet them at the car and quickly made his way to the cafeteria, fishing some $1 bills from his wallet—when Matt and Tyler found him with an interesting offer.

"Just think about it, man." Tyler handed him the jersey and Matt clapped him on the shoulder before they left.

Stefan quirked his brow and stuffed the shirt under the flap of his bag as he turned his eager attention back to the snack machine, before he caught up with the girls in the student parking lot where they were waiting by Bonnie's blue Prius.

"Got what you needed?" the driver smirked at his snack laden arms.

"You don't mind if I eat in the car, do you?" he climbed into the backseat, pulling his seatbelt on.

"As long as you don't get crumbs everywhere," she chuckled, pulling from the lot and turning toward town.

"Thanks for being my temporary chauffeurs, it's only for the week, I promise." Stefan told them. "I have a car, but I can't risk being pulled over without a licence now that I can't compel my way out of it. I managed to get an appointment for the driver's test at the DMV Thursday after school."

"It's not a problem, Stefan."

"So where do you need to go?" Elena wondered, twisting around in the passenger seat, watching him pull open a bag of salt 'n' vinegar crisps.

"Home Depot," Stefan said, mouth watering from the chips. "And then the electronics’ store for a new phone."

"What do you need at the Home Depot?" Elena questioned, straightening back in her seat.

Stefan gave a little snort. "I need to replace a key."

The two teens exchanged confused looks and Stefan opened his second bag of crisps.

"We're here," Bonnie eventually announced, parked in a curb space.

They followed Stefan into the store and through a maze of aisles, but the teen knew where he was going. This wasn't the first time he'd paid a visit to the store since Damon had made his return; starting from broken windows to bookshelves. He found the aisle that displayed the doorknobs and carefully started to inspect the brass selection; he'd always had a keen eye for detail, even before he was turned into a vampire, so he remembered the type.

"Found it." He picked up the boxed product and made his way to the register.

"What do you need a doorknob for?" Elena asked.

"I just need the key," Stefan told them as they left. "Damon changed the knobs on my balcony doors while I was in the hospital and refuses to give me the key, so..." he gestured the bag.

Instead of getting in the car again, the trio just had to cross the street to get to the electronics store and Stefan simply purchased the same cell phone as the previous 2 times and put it on his account and plan, under the same number.

"You sure you ladies don't want to stay?" Stefan asked when they dropped him back at the Boarding House, but they had to get home themselves. "Thanks again for the ride."

"Same time tomorrow," Bonnie smiled and drove back down the winding drive.

Stefan didn't see Damon's Camaro in the drive and was happy no 1 else was home. He opened the package and stowed the knobs in the chest in his closet but locked the attached keys in the drawer in his dresser. He went down to the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee, pouring himself a large mug and set up at the dining room table. He took his phone out of the package and powered it on, setting it up and filling up Contacts from memory, before he plugged it into the wall to charge the low battery.

Sipping his coffee, Stefan emptied out his bag and started his missed worked. History first, which was the easiest (no offence to Mr Saltzman, but if you lived through it...), then English Lit II, Math, and Economics; getting up periodically for refills, bathroom breaks, an apple and to stretch out the very human aches and kinks in his back and shoulders from being hunched over for hours. Until finally, he threw down his pen and answered the call of his hunger; a couple pork chops, caramelized onions, mashed potatoes, gravy and collared greens. A scan through the wine fridge and he found the perfect pairing. He pushed all his books and papers aside and dined at the table. His plate cleared, he was just finishing off the last sip of wine when Damon finally returned home, a glance at the numeral antique clock on the mantle dictated that it was 12 minutes to 8.

Damon easily tracked his heartbeat to the dining room at a human crawl. "How was your very first day of ordinary high school?" he mocked, flopping into an adjacent dining chair, fingers flicking over the brunette's notes.

"How was your millionth day of day drinking?" Stefan returned with a raised brow, turning the stem on his glass with his fingertips.

"I see you're still not funny!" Damon remarked.

"The sentiment's returned," Stefan flashed back the same fake smile he received. They gazed at each other with humoured flickering eyes.

"So I take it to mean that Teacher held it together," he couldn't help but be somewhat impressed with the man. Stefan's green eyes flashed with silent pride for the dirty-blond. "I guess having a proper vampire as a teacher has it's advantages," Stefan flashed him a frown which garnered a little smirk in return. "So what's this, then?" the vampire changed the subject, picking the jersey up from where it hung over the back of his chair.

"My old Timber Wolves jersey." Stefan told him. "Matt and Tyler found me after school today and asked if I would reconsider joining the team, you know, since I quit when you killed Mr Tanner for no other reason than to get back at me for saying you actually have feelings. I t--"

"No," Damon said instantly and with finality.

Stefan stared at his brother for a moment, annoyance flaring in his expression. If his brother had just let him finish the sentence, he would have known that Stefan was in agreement. He'd told the guys he'd think about it, even though he intended to say no from the beginning. He needed to stay as safe as possible until his next birthday, when he would _officially_ turn 18; and he couldn't take the chance that he wouldn't get some spinal injury from a hard tackle or something else. Not when he remembered what it was like when he tried out and Tyler tackled him, he'd been a vampire back then and it was still a struggle to get up after, not to mention the broken wrist and 2 of his fingers bending a way they weren't supposed to. No, he couldn't take the risk.

"You're a human now, Stefan." Damon continued, misreading the meaning behind his expression. "You're fragile. It's a contact sport and the answer is **no**."

But he refused to let Damon think he could continue this controlling shit. "It's a contact sport—played by other humans." Stefan told him slowly. "And oh, look, I'm a human now, too, as you never fail to keep reminding me!" he snapped.

"Uh-huh." Damon just nodded, his arms crossed. "I'm not stupid, Stefan."

Stefan blinked at him. "I never said you were," he said genuinely.

Damon ignore him. "The school won't let you play—you're underage. You need a permission slip sighed by a parent or guardian and I don't plan on signing on any dotted line."

Stefan gave a short chuckle, giving his brother a smug look. "All my records say I'm 18."

"Smug looks ugly on you, little brother, especially when it's out of season." Damon smirked and Stefan's expression slowly shrunk as his brother continued, "I told you I didn't just mope around your sickbed all week."

"What did you do, Damon?" he asked lowly.

"I made you _real_." Damon clapped him on the shoulder. "In the eyes of the law, in the eyes of God himself... you're a minor and I am your guardian. I have control of all major aspects of your life and I fully intend to watch it bloom. All the records at school have been fully update along with others, all bearing your new birthday... November 5th, 1992." He announced with pleasure.

Stefan shoved to his feet, outraged. "You can't do that!"

"Really? 'Cause that's exactly what I did."

"No! I need to be 18!" he said desperately.

Damon mirrored his standing stance. "I'm not going to let you blow this once in a lifetime chance because you're scared Ric's going to break up with you because he wants you to live, have a normal life, get a wife, have kids and grow old."

It was the inevitable truth. With a roar, Stefan picked up his empty wineglass and threw it, the thin glassware shattered into particles at the impact against the frame of an old water painting hanging on the wall. Damon looked unimpressed by his outburst. The brunette looked back at him, his face vacant, his empathetic green eyes empty. "I hate you." Stefan told him, his tone flat without fluctuation. "All you ever do is ruin my life."

Pain flared in Damon's blue-eyes which he quickly covered in a cracked mask of indifference, internally shuddering at his brother's expression. This was more unnerving than staring into the eyes of the full Ripper, no humanity and all because Stefan no longer had that switch inside of him so to see him like this was beyond disconcerting. "I know you're angry right now, Stefan, so I know you don't mean that."

"Get out." Damon didn't move. "I don't want you here!" Stefan voice didn't raise but the force behind it was almost like a physical punch to the gut. Damon stared at him for a second longer before he dropped the jersey clenched in his hand to the tabletop and left the dining room.

Stefan was still for a moment, such pain clawing inside his chest, such helplessness that it felt like he was suffocating with it, his lungs seizing and his throat closing up—since the moment he felt his heart beat in his chest for the first time in the past 145 years; since he had Damon under him, stake in his chest; since he held Alaric dead in his arms for the first time, since even longer before that in 1942 when he stood on the platform waiting for a big brother who never came; standing on the shore of the quarry, helpless but to stare after his brother's retreating back, able to do nothing but drown it out in the **roar of blood!**

There was no switch to make it quiet, there was no longer a box strong enough to pack it away, no swath big enough to suffocate it and he couldn't suppress it anymore, no barrier—so he let it out. Smashing, tearing, screaming. Powerless, despair, terror, isolation. His dinner plate met the same fate as the wineglass. He tore the jersey, shredded it. He snapped every candle in sight and there were many. He used the holders like a bat, smashing the antique clock on the mantle. He tore the paintings from the wall, smashing the old frames over his knee and shredding the painted canvas—destroying historical works of art that held great monetary value and had been passed through the family for decades. Wordless roars and screams of anguish leaving his throat raw, tears feeling like hot lava down his already flushed and hot cheeks.

Stefan wavered, bracing himself heavily on the cherry wood tabletop, virtually unscathed no matter what he'd thrown at it; his breaths short and chest heaving, heart thumping in his throat. His face tingled. His gaze was blurry but he couldn't tell if it was from tears or the light-headedness as such pain radiated from the center of his brain it made him feel ill.

Alaric hadn't done it yet, but it was only a matter of time. He wasn't selfish like Stefan, who knew the danger, the contamination his vampirism would cause to the human's life. A pollution, a poison. He'd infected Alaric and found himself cured. Alaric was a better man than Stefan ever could be; he would 'free' Stefan, 'let him go' like Stefan should have from the beginning.

The brunette cocked his head as he stared at the drop of dark blood on the table, wondering idly when it had gotten there when another drop joined beside it. He felt the burn in his sinuses and the drops dripped faster, until it created a small pool. With a trembling hand, Stefan pressed his finger into it, drawing his finger across the polished cherry surface, before going back and repeating. It was an old routine, one imbedded inside of him, one he could never forget—he wrote their names so he would never forget the monster that he was.

Damon had left, but he hadn't gone far. He didn't need vampire hearing for the ruckus Stefan was making, his wordless screams cutting him deep, every crash making him flinch. It hadn't gone on more than half an hour and there was silence, silence but his brother's breath and his brother's heartbeat which he had cause to never be able to hear, and yet was listening to it now. It took a few minutes for the scent to permeate the air and the vampire smelled it instantly. **Blood**! Fear tore through him as he blurred into the dining room; he took in the destruction of the room in an instant, his brother leaning against the table, with jerky movements of his arm.

"Stefan!" Damon jerked him around. "Where--?" The bleeding had already slowed, just a sluggish haemorrhage that coated his upper lip. "What did you do?" Stefan was languorous in his hands as Damon tore the sleeve from his shirt and pressed it to his nose. "Hey!" the vampire snapped, giving his brother a little shake but the teen was only like a doll. He noticed the blood on his hand and remembered the odd movements of Stefan's arm when he'd come in and turned his attention to the tabletop as the teen shivered—and there written in blood: _Alaric Saltzman._

He knew of his brother proclivity to ask the name of his victims before he killed them when he was the Ripper, and then write them down. He knew of the apartment his brother had in Chicago in 1922 and the hidden wall crowded with names written in blood. Stefan was worse than he realized.

"Let's get you warmed up, huh?" Damon turned his attention back to his brother. "A nice hot bath to calm you right down."

Stefan let his brother lead him upstairs and into his bedroom, sitting him at the foot of his king sized bed and went into his bathroom, turning on the faucet to his large plunge bath, big enough to fit himself and pretty company comfortably, sprinkling bath salts in.

Unlike Stefan's bedroom, which was crowded with bookshelves, dressers, wardrobes, reading chairs and tables, with a closed off en suite; Damon's bedroom was filled with space and had an open concept, it designed for comfort and pleasure with his king bed and large bath, unlike Stefan's. Here, he could easily keep his eye on the brunette.

"Talk to me, little brother." Damon murmured as he returned to the bed, where Stefan hadn't moved at all. He would have thought he was staring at a mannequin if he couldn't see the slight rise of his shoulders or hear his heartbeat.

"A doppelganger is born to bear the punishment of the one who can't be harmed, the one who cannot be killed." Stefan mumbled quietly, his head bowed, but Damon heard him clearly. "From the day we are born, we are made to suffer the sins of the one's appearance we bore."

Damon stared at the crown of his head. "Where did you hear that from?"

"Huh?" Stefan looked up, eyes blinking rapidly to clear his head and rubbed his forehead.

"Come on," Damon pulled him into the bathroom, turning the faucet off, the water steaming beneath the layer of scented bath bubbles. "Get in. Let's go." He turned his back.

Stefan stared at the bubbles for a moment before he pulled his shirt off overhead and dropped it to the floor. He unbuckled the vervain filled clasp of his belt and undid his zipper, he pushed his jeans and underwear down, his socks coming off as he stepped out of them. He lifted his leg over the tub, stepping into the hot water, the line reaching his knees, the bubbles above that. He lowered himself, giving a shaky exhale as his chilly skin was enveloped by toasty velvet. He sat and he waited, looking up at his brother listlessly.

Damon gathered his discarded clothes, fingering the belt clasp buckle he didn't recognize for a moment before he looked back at his brother. He forced back the shudder, it was like staring into the blank eyes of Stefan's dead body. A shell, and empty home; Stefan's compassion and intelligence and humour and hope checked out. "I'll be back," he quickly left, throwing Stefan's clothes in his own hamper without thinking about it, before he blurred to the kitchen and put the kettle on, his super-hearing trained on any and all sound coming from his bedroom.

Stefan slumped back against the gentle slope at the end of the tub, his chin to his chest as he stared with half-lidded eyes at the gentle peaks of bubbles, little tiny rainbows reflecting off the oil surface from the dim lighting overhead. He felt cold and numb but the water was so soft and warm, like a gentle caress on a sore bruise. He just wanted to feel it like a blanket, like when he was a baby, swaddled in a soft blanket, held securely and safely and he had no concept of pain or heartbreak, just love. He wanted to go back to that, to sooth the agony that cut into his soul.

He laid his head back, his eyes closed and slowly slid down into the water. Bubbles coated his face and hair and then where washed away as he lay fully submerged in the bathwater. His heartbeat skipped and went a little erratic as he was first fully immersed, but it wasn't cold, hard, and metallic tasting; he wasn't drowning, he was balming. And he calmed right back down. He was warmed; like he was being bathed in warm honey on his skin and not cold ill-intentioned fingers that gripped his heart. A few bubbles leaving his nostrils, he relaxed at the bottom of the bath.

The kettle whistled as it boiled and Damon turned off the flame and took it off the burner and the sound died. He pored the water over the tea bag in the mug; it was some herbal nonsense that Elena had put into the cart with a comment of: "We have it in my house, Stefan likes to drink it when he's over." And that settled the purchase. He cocked his head and automatically looked up and beyond through the walls and ceiling to where his bathroom lay as he heard the stutter of Stefan's heartbeat.

Not willing to take any chances, even if it seemed to calm a few seconds later, Damon abandoned the seeping tea and sped up stairs. At first glance the tub was empty of his brother, but he didn’t see any wet footprints on the tile and his eyes widened in terrible realization. _Water bubbled and dribbled from his lips--_

"Stefan!" Damon’s hands plunged through the cover of bubbles and into the water beneath, fingers clawing into the first flesh they came into contact with, wrenching his brother out of the water.

Stefan jolted in surprise as hands grabbed him roughly, choking on water and soap as he was jerked upright, gasping and coughing as his eyes and sinuses stung.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Damon screamed, his vamp-face out as he was ratcheted with emotion, shaking him roughly. "Drowning yourself in my fucking tub while I'm trying to make you tea! Goddamn it, Stefan! I told you! I told you--"

Stefan clawed at his brother's own slippery forearms. "Stop," he croaked. "Damon!"

After a moment, the vampire stopped shaking him, breathing heavily, nails biting into soft skin, his sclera at least returning to normal. "Explain to me, Stefan." He demanded in a growl.

"I wasn't trying to drown myself--"

"I don't believe you. I can't trust a word you fucking say."

Stefan exhaled slowly, staring at his brother and realized that the tremor he was feeling wasn't him, but Damon. "Compel me, if you don't believe me." He said quietly. "I don't have vervain. Compel me, if you don't believe me."

Damon looked severely taken aback by the suggestion, that Stefan was actually offering it; to leave him open to one of the biggest vulnerabilities, to let the vampire essentially manipulate him, even after all that had happened with Katherine. "Alright." His fangs retracted and he stilled, caught Stefan's gaze, who didn't fight and stared straight back, completely trusting. Damon's pupils contracted...

Stefan could feel Damon's influences curl and flutter around his mind; it felt completely different than the Power of dream manipulation. This was like a catch and pull, drawing on the conscious, to implant into the subconscious.

As a human, he never remembered Katherine's compulsion; and as a vampire he was unable to be compelled like witches, so why could he _feel_ this? It couldn't be because he was a doppelganger, he was born 1 so he would have felt Katherine's compulsion but hadn't. The only difference he could think of between then and now was that he was brought back from the Other Side with powerful Bennett magic. Stefan attempted to pull away, just to see what would happen and he was pulled back like it was magnetism.

"Were you trying to drown yourself?"

He didn't feel _compelled_ to spew out the answer to Damon's question without thought or regard; it more felt like a strong impulse to do it, a very convincing suggestion. But he didn't fight it, he was telling the truth. "No."

"Then what were you doing?"

"It was comforting. Safe. I was holding my breath. I wasn't even down there a minute before you pulled me out. I just needed for it all to stop for a minute, the pain..."

Damon stared at his little brother a long moment. That was it, that was what he had wanted, but... "Stefan... you don't want to be a vampire." He could do this and make Stefan forget and no one would ever know but him.

"Damon, no. What are you--" Stefan started to try and pull away again, but he was pulled right back as the vampire intensified his Power.

"You hated it, what it turned you into, what it made you. It really was a curse for you, not like for me." Damon told him. "You don't want to be a vampire right now, you want to live and you want to grow. You get to be _human_ again, Stef. You don't have to pretend to be human anymore because you actually _are_ human now. By some miracle this happened and throwing that away would be the biggest mistake you could ever make. And I know you, baby brother. You better than anyone knows that there is always hope, Stefan. Otherwise, you would have given up on me a long time ago. Well, here it is, that hope coming back to pay you ten-fold for all the shit it's put you through. You finally have the chance to live the life you always wanted but was stolen from you; finally graduate high school for the last time, age passed 18, be a doctor like you always dreamed in our former lives…

"I'd ask you if you could ever forgive me for doing this, but you won't remember."

Stefan looked back at his brother, his green gaze teary as he let the soft words his brother spoke swim through his conscious and take hold in his subconscious. He wasn't quiet sure when exactly he'd stopped resisting, but he had. He knew he'd hopped right back of that despairing, spiralling horse; that one that had him taking off his daylight ring and putting it in Salvatore's fishbowl with no apprehension and he couldn't allow himself to go down that path anymore. So maybe this, here, his brother's half-compulsion would tamp that down spiralling, self-destructive nature, the depression.

_I will_ , Stefan knew. "I forgive you," he whispered, a tear escaping down his cheek.

"I'm sorry, brother, I just want you to be happy and _live_." Damon compelled. "You won't remember all this, this past hour. You came home, we had a brief, unimportant chat, you--" he stopped. "What were you going to tell those 2 idiots about rejoining the team, Stef?"

"I told them I would think about it, but I was just going to tell them no anyways tomorrow. I couldn't take the risk of getting injured again. Not like this."

"What do you mean _again_?" he growled, catching the operative word.

"During tryouts when I was tackled, I broke my wrist and 2 fingers."

Damon gritted his teeth, taking a deep breath. "No football, Stefan. Got it?"

"Okay."

"Good. So home, brief chat, no to football, a little nosebleed that's nothing to worry about, then you asked if you could use mine to take a relaxing bath, wrote in your little diary, then laid your pretty little head on a pillow and fell asleep. Nice and boring, just like you."

"Really boring," Stefan gave a little smile. "Sounds nice." He just hoped that's what this would give him.

"And avoid the dining room for a while; I've got some redecorating plans and I want it to be a surprise." Damon finally released him physically and broke the compulsion, standing on his feet and stepping away, his v-neck and jeans wet with damp patches. He carefully watched his brother as he rubbed his eyes, bubbles dried in his damp hair.

Stefan looked up at the vampire, his thick brows twitching. He wondered if telling Damon that he still remembered would make his feel more or less guilty, but in the end, stuck to Damon's truth. "This bath may be big enough for 2... but that's never going to happen, Damon. I just don't love you that way,"

A surprised look crossed his face. "That was almost funny, Stefan."

"The water's getting cold, do you mind or do you want a show?"

"Tempting as that is..." Damon tossed him a towel and Stefan caught it before it could go in the water. "Guy is your type, not mine." He went back into his room.

Stefan pulled the plug and stood, rubbing himself dry before wrapping the towel around his waist and stepped from the tub. He found Damon sprawled on his king flipping through a magazine. "I thought you were making me tea?"

"What am I, your servant now?" the vampire didn't seem to realize the discrepancy.

"Thanks for letting me use your bath," he paused at the door.

Damon didn't look up. "Don't mention it."

He looked at his brother a second longer, a gentle curve on his lips and headed for his room. He was optimistic this would work, could testify that Damon's compulsion was taking a loose root. He didn't want to turn into a vampire right now but live life as a human. _I can do this_. He slipped on a pair of sleep pants and a shirt, sitting in his bed against a pile of pillows against the headboard, legs crossed, he wrote in his journal in the lamplight.

"Mm," he grunted, waking in discomfort, his arm going around his stomach at the hunger pains. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he obviously had, his journal and pen tumbled on the bed beside him, his lamp still on. His alarm clock said it was a quarter passed 2 a.m.

Disgruntled, he climbed from bed and walked down the dark hall, his bare feet quiet on the rug-lined floor, hand rubbing at his aching stomach. Down the stairs and into the kitchen. He switched on the overhead light for the exhaust fan above the gas stove and dug into the freezer; he wanted something quick to make with little preparation. He put 4 frozen Belgium waffles in the toaster, 2 chocolate chip, 2 blueberry. He sat on a stool at the breakfast counter, chin pillowed on his folded arms as he waited for it to pop. He stared at the lone tea mug on the counter by the stove, the cup Damon had been making earlier, abandoned. The teakettle sat on the hotplate at the center; he thought about making a cup to wash down the waffles, but discarded it, the noise would wake Damon if he wasn't already. To Stefan's now dull human hearing, he had sounded stealthy, but from past experience he knew that not to be true. What took a vampire's efforts was _not_ hearing every creak and settling groan that went through the old house; figuring out what was just an innocuous bird setting on the sill outside the window to a modern-day marauder looking to break in.

The toaster popped and Stefan set to work on filling a checker board on each piece with butter from the dish, putting them on a short stake on his plate. He was already taking a bite from one before he even made it back to the stool with the lot. He made quick work of the hot buttered waffles, sighing in satisfaction as he rubbed his temporarily sated stomach; it would hold 'till morning. He put his plate in the sink, along with the dumped tea and shut off the stove light, heading back upstairs. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, turned off the lamp and crawled back into his bed under the covers.

Stefan easily fell asleep with his mollified appetite.

**~ T V D ~**

Stefan was awoken by the alarm with a grumble, wishing he could hit snooze but knew he was going to have an inconsiderably busy morning despite not have to go out and hunt for his meal. So he rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of black jeans, thick socks, and his light, tan long sleeve with the brown patches at the elbows and a thin hood; and coifed his hair just-so. He didn't immediately head to the kitchen like his hunger dictated, but passed the stairs and down the hall towards Damon's bedroom as he was missing a pretty important accessory.

He paused only briefly at his brother's cracked door; Damon just waltzed into his bedroom without knocking or as was now known, without his presence all the time, so he figured he'd give his big brother the same treatment.

"Entry without knocking," Damon looked at him, mock aghast as he came from the bathroom, buttoning his black button up. "And you haven't broken out into a sweat, I'm surprised, Stefan."

"I'm just learning from watching your example, big brother."

"Haven't you ever heard of the saying: do as I say not as I do?"

"Yeah, but what you say and what you do are kind of equal in part so it's a matter of interpretation on how insane I feel like being at the given moment."

Damon looked at him. "Can I help you with something?"

"My belt. Do you--?"

"Hamper."

Stefan found it in the bathroom by the entrance next to the stretch of grey marble counter. His clothes were easily found on top. "You owe me a shirt,"

"How do you figure that?"

Stefan held up the shirt in view. "You ripped my sleeve off."

"Yeah, but you're the one that bled all over it. Blood trumps rip, little brother. Every time." Stefan glowered as Damon gave him an arrogant smirk.

"I'll remember that," Stefan hung it over the side of the hamper.

"Do, brother, do." Damon said. "What do you need it for anyway? It looks like a cheap piece of junk."

Stefan found his jeans and pulled the belt from his loops. "Lexi won it for me at a fair in New York for a birthday, the strong-man booth." He smirked, thumb tracing the worn spiral design on the clasp. "And cheap is right, it was a trick belt but it broke after I used it a couple times. But I took out the mechanism and filled it with vervain." He looked up.

Damon stilled so briefly at the mention of vervain that Stefan would even have missed it had he still been a vampire, and only saw it because he remembered the compulsion from last night, not that the vampire knew that. "Smart move. You're a human now, susceptible to the whims of vampires like all the other suckers walking around."

Stefan tossed his shirt and jeans onto his shoulder and pulled his belt through his belt loops as he left, buckling the clasp. He threw his clothes in his own hamper, fed Salvatore and headed for his most desired destination—the kitchen. A bowl of oatmeal, cut fruit, and coffee. When he packed his lunch, after his experiences of yesterday, he packed extra snacks that he could sneak into class without going noticed or for him to eat at break during class switch. But when he was finished, he realized he didn't have his bag or anything else because it was still in the...

Stefan stood in front of the closed dining room's sliding double doors. And it was here, now, that he realized some of Damon's compulsion _did_ take a foothold in his subconscious. He had a very serious impulse to NOT GO IN THERE AVOID. He knew under normal circumstances he would be reluctant to go back into the eyes of destruction, just like he had after **that night** in his bedroom, but this was like an outside force tugging in his brain, instructing him clearly. DO NOT GO IN THERE AVOID. It was Damon's compulsion working on his magically reworked human subconscious.

And when he tried to focus, remember what had happened in the room beyond the closed doors, it was like he was remembering through a thick veil. He _knew_ what happened, but it was like he couldn't _rehash_ it. If this compulsion had taken root, Stefan had hope that some of his brother's other compulsion had as well.

"Damon?" he called, knowing the vampire would hear no matter where in the house, even if he didn't shout it from the rafters. A minute later he appeared.

"What are you doing?" Damon eyed him then the door.

"I left my backpack, homework, and cell phone in there last night. But I'm not supposed to go in there."

"Fine." He said like it wasn't his doing. "I'll get them. You... go do something somewhere else."

Damon only slipped into the closed off room once he was down the hall. Stefan made a trip into the basement and the blood freezer. Alaric probably learned the same lesson as Stefan had at the trial of yesterday and would find a way to smuggle blood unconsciously at school, but Stefan prepared a travel mug to slip to the bampi anyway. He's just trashed the empty blood bag when Damon mad an appearance with all his gathered things.

"All the spinal issues in the teenage population are now explained," he said.

"Did you get it all?" Stefan questioned, sorting through the papers, ignoring torn or smeared states.

"You get what I give you, be grateful." Damon poured himself a glass of blood from his stash in the drawer in the bottom of the freezer that Stefan knew better than to mess with, putting it into the microwave. "Bagged blood is so boring." He blinked dully as the glass went around on the rotating plate.

Stefan snickered. "The price of convenience," his words came out a little mumbled due to the granola bar hanging out of his mouth as he packed up his bag. It was like a jigsaw puzzle to make sure everything fit now that he was packing lunches. He could probably cheat a few days himself by buying from the cafeteria.

The microwave beeped and Damon sipped from his breakfast, lip rising as he watched Stefan gulp down the snack bar like he was ravenous. "I'm definitely paying that price—2 fold."

Stefan gave him a face as he trashed the wrapper. "As long as it's not the innocence of Mystic Falls." He slid his cell in his pocket and the strap over his shoulder. "I'm going; Bonnie and Elena are going to be here soon." He grabbed the travel mug on the way out.

"Nobody's really innocent," Damon called to his brother's back.

...

"Hey," Stefan climbed into the back of Bonnie's Prius, buckling up. Damon had not been kidding about the spinal injuries in teenage population; he didn't even notice when he was a vampire, but he sure did now.

"Got you a present," Elena told him as Bonnie drove.

"Elena, you didn't--" Stefan started, both surprised and a bit pleased at the notion.

"Don't worry," she flashed him back a smirk, "Didn't cost me a cent." Bonnie snickered. The brunette passed back a handbook. "You said you were taking the driver's test, no compulsion available. I thought you might want to brush up on your modern day road rules. I dug that up from last year,"

"Thanks," Stefan stuck the travel mug between his knees and flipped through the pages of the driver's manual, scanning the dog-eared and highlighted pages. "I'll admit, it's been a while since I actually drove, it would be good to brush up on the finer things for the written and refresh myself for the practical." Stefan spent the drive reading and Bonnie and Elena spent it chatting about the Winter Formal that Caroline was already foaming at the mouth about.

They split up in the teaming hall to their differentially located lockers, Stefan already digging into his snack-stash, pointed canines tearing into the fruit leather. He hung up his bag, unloaded his books, took what he needed for first period, kept the mug and locked his locker. He made his way through the shoal of fellow students, taking the path that was most likely to cross with Alaric's and he was right. He spotted Alaric coming from the Teacher's Lounge down the hall and through the intervening students, managed to lock gazes. ' _Blood'_ Stefan mouthed as they closed the distance casually without looking it. Alaric's brows stitched a little but Stefan jerked his chin down to indicate the travel mug he held low at his side and the wrinkles smoothed in realization. And, as they finally met at the nexus point, like a well choreographed dance, brushed shoulders as they passed in the throng of students and from view, fingers brushing, the mug cleanly changed ownership and no one was the wiser as the pair continued on their ways without a backward glance.

End of 2nd period had him lingering behind again, this time with his missed homework as an excuse. Elena had learned her lesson from yesterday and didn't need to be told twice, telling the other teen to meet them inside the cafeteria again before leaving, subtly pulling the classroom door behind her.

Stefan set his binder on a desk in the front row and handed Alaric his missed homework.

Alaric took it without looking at it, tucking the papers in a folder, his gaze trained on the brunette. "Hey, is everything okay? Bonnie said that you got a new phone; I tried calling and texting last night but you never responded."

"Yeah, sorry. I kind of lost track of it last night and didn't get it back until this morning."

Alaric stepped out from behind his desk. "Another fight with Damon?"

**_'I'm not going to let you blow this once in a lifetime chance because you're scared Ric's going to break up with you because he wants you to live, have a normal life, get a wife, have kids and grow old.'_ **

His brother's seethe came back to him, garbled and sounding like it was shouted underwater, but it was there. He gave an unconscious grimace as this sort of ache that arose in his brain and he rubbed at his forehead with rough fingers.

"Hey," Alaric grasped his wrist, pulling his hand away in concern. "Stefan?"

Stefan looked up, emotional pain flaring in his forest green eyes before he snuffed it out. The pressure on his wrist grew marginally, Alaric's disquiet growing at the caught expression. Though the vampire's slightly taller frame blocked the intimate gesture and expression on the dirty-blond's face, threw an illusion on just how close they really where standing through the view in the window on the door, all Stefan could think of was the last time they were in a similar position in a classroom setting. Alaric realized what a terrible mistake he made and broke things off with Stefan, setting the then-vampire into one of the worse spirals of his 162 year long life.

_"You might have been alive for over 145 years, Stefan, but it doesn't change the fact that you're still just a 17 year old **kid.** I'm 33 years old, **I'm** the adult and I never should have let last night go on as it did."_

Stefan pulled from the vampire's hold like he'd been burned, stepping back. Hurt and confusion flashed in the teacher's blue eyes for a moment, before a slamming locker out in the hall seemed to bring back the clamour of school life and understanding took its place; all his heightened senses had a tendency to zero in on the teen—his heartbeat was such a distracting and captivating instrument. He went back behind his desk, it was probably best to keep some physical distance between them in their current environment.

"It was a bit brutal at the beginning. Things were said... things were broken," Stefan swallowed. "But we talked and-and it really helped." He nodded as if to assure himself; _it will work._ It was probably better that he didn't tell Alaric about the compulsion, not if he hadn't Damon, and he didn't think Damon would be telling the others about it either; it was just between them. He looked back at the teacher, "What, um... what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh..." he sat. "All the occult material of Isobel's I sent for arrived yesterday. It's all sitting in my car right now. I thought I'd bring it over the Boarding House."

"Yeah. It's probably the safest place to keep it, too, anyway. I'm sure Elena will be glad to finally get some answers."

"But not you?" he wondered.

Stefan leaned back against the desk that held his books. "I don' know. I think I just have other," _more important and pressing_ "things on the my mind right now." He stared at the blackboard behind the teacher, the familiar dashed lines of Alaric's writing collapsing in on each other until it was all just a big blur. "It's not like I can doing anything to change it. Just hope that whoever he is, if there even is a he, that he's a luckier bastard than I've been and gets to be some average Joe who's only experience of vampires is Robert Pattinson sparkling in stripper glitter on the big screen." Alaric attempted to stifle the bark of laughter and Stefan refocused his gaze on the vampire with a ghost smile. "Lexi thought it was hilarious when she saw the advertisement on the side of a bus and sprung a surprise visit on me to drag me to a night-showing. Lexi thought they were all idiots and I couldn't decide if I was relieved or disappointed at how off base the world is about vampires." He sighed. "My point, it's probably better if we never cross paths—not if Elena's encounter indicates anything." _No, I'm probably the bad doppelganger._

"It's your decision, Stefan." Alaric told him quietly, watching him carefully.

Stefan's snort of derision was overpowered by the growl of his stomach. He cleared his throat. "I better go; lunch is almost over." He grabbed his binder from the desk. "I'll see you later at home!" he left, quickly treading down the hall to his locker, resisting the urge to break out a snack bar to ease his hunger until he could put his teeth into his lunch because that was all they had been doing, **easing** the hunger just enough so it wasn’t a loud roar in his ears that was way to similar of when he went Rippy and he was able to focus on things outside that yawning emptiness. But his resistance didn’t last long enough to actually wait until getting to the cafeteria to eat; he was already half finished by the time he found Elena and Bonnie with Caroline, who, surprise not really a surprise, was talking about plans for Winter Formal that was still weeks away.

...

This time, when Bonnie and Elena dropped him at the Boarding House, they stayed, Stefan having shared the news of Alaric's delivery. He dropped his bag, boots and jacket in the front hall like a typical teenager and headed straight down the hall. The girls' things joining, they shared a look and had to quicken their steps to keep up with the boy. When they made it to the kitchen, Stefan was already digging into a chocolate pudding cup from the fridge. "Mmm,"

"Weren't you just eating before the drive?" Elena asked.

Stefan just shrugged, lips around the spoon. It had only been a fruit leather. Cup in 1 hand, spoon turned upside-down still in his mouth like a placeholder, he delved into the freezer and came out with ground beef that he set to thaw.

"What's that?" Bonnie said.

Stefan scraped the little snack cup clean, licking the spoon. "Supper. You 2 are staying for a bit, right? Alaric's coming over. _And I'm starving_ ," that was the most pressing thing, drowning out his own words as he rinsed the pudding container and discarded his spoon in the sink.

"And what delicious meal are you making us tonight?" Elena sat on a breakfast stool on her knees, leaning forward on the counter on her forearms.

Stefan started to pull ingredients from the fridge and onto the island counter. "Tacos." He went to the cupboard and took out bowls.

"Need help with anything?" Bonnie offered.

"Thanks, but I got it." Stefan organised the crowded area around the cutting board. "I'd usually make the salsa by scratch but there isn't all the ingredients here," he pulled a large knife from the butcher's block and winked, "but I saw a jar of salsa in the cupboard."

"Well, if I'd know you like to make things from _scratch_ , Chef Salvatore," Elena mocked lightly, "That you actually _could_ make things from scratch, I would have gotten the proper ingredients when I went shopping with Damon."

"So, are you just a really good cook or are you an actual chef?" the witch mused.

"It was, uhm... early 1940's," Stefan took a moment to recall, as he cut open the avocadoes, removed the seed and scooped out the centers into a bowl, "Lexi was still helping me into rehabilitating me into the world after a Ripper-binge and demanded my getting a hobby that wasn't brooding into my journal, so I attended Culinary College for a year or so before I decided to join the war effort."

"You know, I bet you have dozens of stories like this and we know that you're a nice guy, Salvatore, but you really could just be a big fat liar!" she challenged.

"You've seen all my journals, right?" Stefan returned. "What do you think the attic’s like? There's boxes up there," he pointed at the ceiling with the knife, "filled with certificates and diplomas alone."

Bonnie held up her hands playfully. "Alright, I concede."

Stefan smirked a little as he started chopping tomato. "You're just too lazy to _actually_ go and check."

"Hey, I'm using my tingling witch senses and feeling the trust, I'm going with it."

"Aka, lazy butt!" Elena laughed.

Bonnie elbowed her. "I don't see you getting up." Elena stuck her tongue out.

"Heat the pan?" the male requested, the witch complying. Stefan quickly shredded the lettuce before he diced the onion; his eyes not the only ones stinging from the pungency of the bulb vegetable. He scrapped them off into the hot pain and washed the oils from his hands before putting the beef in the microwave to finish defrosting.

"Can I do the cheese?" Elena questioned, drumming the edge of the counter.

"If you can handle it," Stefan mused, taking the beef from the microwave and over to the stove.

"Opening a bag and dumping it into a bowl." Elena deadpanned, "I think I can handle that." She stretched across the counter for her items.

"Then I get to do the salsa and sour cream!" Bonnie declared, already searching the cupboard for the jar of salsa, then the fridge for the sour cream.

"Might as well take out the pitcher," Stefan added, breaking up the frying meat as it cooked, turning on the exhaust fan overhead.

"See?" Elena announced, holding the heaping bowl aloft like it was Simba. "I'm already a better cook than Aunt Jenna by a huge leap." She nibbled on a strand of cheese.

" _Jeremy_ is a better cook than Jenna," Bonnie drawled, spooning salsa and sour cream into their respective clear glass bowls. "And that's saying something."

"Well, not all of us can go to some fancy culinary school."

"It was 60 years ago, Elena." Stefan joked. "Time to let it go."

"It should be weird that that's not weird anymore, right?" Elena questioned.

"That's not the weirdest thing about this whole situation," the former vampire muttered. He scrutinized the spice rack next the sink, slowly rotating it and taking the ones he wanted. He may not have been able to make the salsa, but he could the seasoning of the meat.

Bonnie returned the sour cream and salsa containers to the fridge and took out the pitcher of lemon ice tea and a stack of tall plastic cups from the cupboard along with plates.

"I'll start taking these to the dining room," Elena offered, grabbing the tomato and cheese and tucked the cups under her arm.

"Oh," Stefan stopped her. "Not the dining room. The table in the library's big enough."

"Why not the dining room?"

"Under construction. Damon's locked it up,"

"Alright, library it is." She left the kitchen.

"Here," Stefan briefly left the stove and got the teen the tray.

"Thanks. Speaking of vampires with a very shoddy moral compass," Bonnie carefully arranged the filled bowls on the tray to maximum effect. "What misfortune is Damon out bestowing onto innocents today?"

Stefan chuckled. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"That's not a comfort, you know how rainbow friendly my thoughts are when it comes to him."

"Come one, Bon, you know he's changed since you first met him."

"Yeah, he's definitely been different since we got you back," Bonnie noted quietly, leaving with the filled tray.

Stefan turned his attention back to the pan, a tight frown on his lips. Yeah, life was going great. He wished everything could be as it was, with the little thing of him being human now changed. In his thoughts, he didn't notice when Elena came back for the pitcher and plates, snatching the napkin holder as an afterthought. Stefan sighed, giving his head a little shake. With the beef browned and cooked, he drained out the grease and put half a cup of water in, and started to sprinkle in the spices. The scent made his stomach growl eagerly as he put the flame on low.

He looked over at movement in his peripheral. "Oh, hey." He smiled.

"Hey," Alaric returned it. "Thought I'd find you here even if Bonnie hadn't said anything."

"Was I being loud or just predictable?" he stirred the beef.

"Guy's gotta eat," he teased as he approached and placed a hand on the brunette's chest. "But I just listened and followed the sound of that beautifully pumping thing in your chest."

Stefan looked up. "You could distinguish which was mine, even with Bonnie and Elena in the house?"

"I'd know your heartbeat anywhere," he whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"Yeah," He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment as he listened to Alaric grab a blood bag from the fridge freezer. Stefan understood completely. As long as he could listen to Ric's heartbeat, he somehow knew that in the end everything was going to be alright—now he was just waiting for his life to come crashing down around him, piece by piece. _'I now pronounce you... separated forever!'_ Stefan glared at the ring on his hand holding the frying pan handle. _Shut up!_ he shouted at her as she giggled. He took a breath and shoved it away. He turned off the burner and scraped the spiced meet into a insulated serving bowl, putting the cover on it and placing the bowl on the still-warm burner.

He still had to get out the tortillas and shells out, and put the shells in the oven to crisp and warm like he should have while the meat was simmering but he'd been distracted. Stefan turned from the stove to go to the cupboard to do just that, but bumped into Alaric who was just behind him without a sound. Alaric cupped his face and kissed him before he could say anything.

It had been 72 hours since they had last kissed, a press of lips to Alaric's forehead in parting. It had been a week since that desperate kiss when they made it home safe from Katherine's fangs, alive in their different ways, but together.

Stefan gave a slightly shaky exhale through his nose. It was slow and it was loving and firm and it was thorough, and Stefan could feel the prickle of Alaric's stubble and the breath he didn't really need curl out his nose with his own. And that ball of emotion that had been residing in his chest, the top layer of anger which he had expended last night in the dining room, now started a slow climb up his throat.

Stefan clutched at Alaric’s slate blue button-up over his chest, fists tight and desperate, tried to force away the tremble with the sob that was attempting to force its way out along with the burn behind his closed eyes, but as long as these lips were against his... or maybe it was the frantic release of finally feeling Alaric again as a few tears escaped his eyes and something a cross between a gasp and sob escaped his throat as Alaric released his mouth and rested their foreheads together.

Stefan clenched and unclenched his fists in the material, wrinkling it as Alaric's thumbs brushed away his wet cheeks. "What brought that on?" he managed, trying to make light even as his breath still trembled.

"Looked like you needed it," Alaric murmured. "And I needed it. It was just something that needed to happen."

"I did need it," Stefan confessed in a quiet whisper, their lips brushing, "I really needed it."

"I love you," the vampire gave him a peck. He pulled his face back, but not far. "And I know how things are right now isn't easy, both our lives have been changed dramatically and we both need to make adjustment. It's okay to be afraid, I am too, but I want you to know that I'm not going anywhere. Somewhere along the line we'll get through this—together. Are you with me, Stefan?"

Stefan met his beautiful, searching blue eyes. "Yes, I am. I love you and I have no plan to go anywhere that is without you." He pressed a kiss to the vampire's smile.

"Ahem. The tables set," Bonnie said from the doorway. "Whenever you guys are done making our or whatever," she grinned.

"Everything okay in here?" Elena asked.

Stefan gave a small, genuine smile. "Yeah,"

_[...tbc...]_

**_~ The Vampire Diaries ~_ **

 


	15. CHAPTER 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've also added the original/DELETED 2 scenes that I rewrote below at the end of the chapter.

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

After supper—which Stefan ate 3 wraps and 2 shells, filled with the works that should keep him for a few hours—they cleaned up and then grabbed the file boxes from Alaric's Tahoe and set back up in the library. They had a vague direction to go in; doppelgangers, so boxes open, they took a cursory catalogue of the tomes and research papers.

"3/4's of these aren't even in English," Elena noted. "How are we supposed to read any of this? I barely passed 11 grd. French and didn't pick it up again this year."

"I speak and read fluent Italian, French, Latin, Polish, my German's not the best but it's passable..." Stefan trailed off as they stared and he gave a sheepish shrug.

"No wonder you're Caroline's rival for valedictorian." Elena told him after a moment then turned to the history teacher. "I can only guess..."

"It's kind of given, being a historian." Alaric said. "Latin, of course. German, Old English, Russian. Um, Chinese and Japanese writing is tricky, but I can get by like a 1st grader." He cleared his throat. "I read them _waaay_ better than speak them."

Elena looked to her best-friend but didn't hold out much hope the witch was going to be in her boring little boat. "Bon?"

"Witches don't cast in English," Bonnie pointed out. "And unlike you, I did pass French every year and am taking it again this year. Aand, Grams has been teaching me a bit of Gaelic even,"

"Guess I'm the only illiterate in the group then,"

"At least you have your looks," Bonnie teased, "Just think, you could be ugly." Elena swatted at her as she chuckled.

So, Alaric, Elena, and Bonnie had taken from the narrowed selection, but Stefan had not. Hate coursed through him as he read: _Petrova_ on a cracked spine. Stefan wanted to tear it up and throw it into the trash, or even better the fire. He wanted to erase everything about Katerina Petrova, but he couldn't, it would be impossible—and it would also mean making Elena disappear, but she was too dear to him and he was too selfish. So he'd buried it under other old tomes and grabbed something at random, hoping it had nothing to do with legends of doppelgangers or shadow-selves. And they settled in.

"Isn't this the nerdiest, cosiest little study group I've ever walked in on," Damon declared, hours later, flopping over the arm of the leather chair that Elena was leaning back against as she sat on the floor, her raised knees the support for her book. "I'm honestly glad to have missed it," he flicked at Elena's loose hair, who swatted his hand away in annoyance.

Stefan briefly freed his mouth of the occupied tootsie-pop and licked his lips, turning his head where it laid on the couch armrest, his book laid open and facedown on his chest. "Where have you been all night? You don't text, you don't call..." he put the sucker back, quirking his brow.

Damon eyed him, from head to socked feet taking up Alaric's lap at the other end of the sofa and back to his mouth and the paper stick bobbing from it. "What am I looking at right now? What the hell is in your mouth?"

"It's called a sucker," Bonnie supplied sarcastically, curled up in the opposite leather chair. "You suck on it."

Damon ignore her. "Where did you get it?" he asked suspiciously.

"I found it in my purse looking for my phone when Jenna texted," Elena answered. "It's from Halloween."

"Better be careful with that, little brother." Damon mocked. "It'll rot your teeth."

Stefan gave him an unimpressed glare. "I actually brush my teeth."

"How can you say that when faced with these pearly whites?" Damon bared his wicked fangs.

"Because I have these," Stefan raised his own lip.

Damon chuckled, settling back again. "Still rocking the baby fangs, huh?"

"They came in after the tooth fairy visited," he agreed.

"They really _do_ look like fangs," Elena said. "I never noticed that before."

"He doesn't smile enough," Alaric teased and grabbed the teen's ankle before he could thump him in his stomach as he rolled his eyes.

"Even without vampire fangs, bet you can still tear into throats," Damon remarked callously. "I guess something’s never change."

"You'll be the first." Stefan promised.

"Kinky," he whistled.

Elena marked her page and set her book aside, she turned around at her spot and rested her arms on the edge of the chair cushion, staring up at the raven-haired vampire. "Stefan said that you're redecorating the dining room, what are you _really_ doing in there?"

Damon gave her that annoying smirk. "You really want to know?"

"I asked," she agreed.

"Hmm. Well..." he drawled and she rose onto her knees eagerly. "I'm not telling you!"

She smacked him on the thigh with a growl. "Jerk! Why not?"

"Simply for this very cute response right here," he circled a finger around her glowering expression and tapped her adorable little nose. He let her smack his hand away and she sat back in disappointment. "It's not my fault you keep falling for the same thing every time."

She couldn't help but stick her tongue out at him. "We'll see about next time." And shoving her book across the rug ahead of her, she crawled over to her best-friend.

"Now you're just teasing me!" his gaze followed her wriggling hips. Bonnie sent a glare with a punch of magic his way as she caught the leer and he grunted with a chuckle, a grimace across his face. "You Bennett's were always a pain one way or another,"

"I suggest you aim a little older," Bonnie released him after a few extra selfish second.

"It's hard to find other 168 year olds on the dating scene," he settled back, unruffled. "Why don't you do something useful with that magic and spell me up a bourbon?" he held out an open palm.

Bonnie snorted. "You wouldn't want to drink anything I served you, trust me." She paused and smirked, "On second thought..."

"Tch. I'll do it!" Damon stopped her and levered himself gracefully onto his feet. "'Cause I know you actually would do something to it." He went over to one of the shelves by the reading table and opened a swing-down door to reveal decanters and glasses nestled on the cupboard within. "So have you actually found anything worth mentioning?" he sipped his bourbon.

"I haven't found anything particularly illuminating," Elena said. "What about you guys?" there was a round of mumbled denials and headshakes.

"What about that thing?" Damon asked, coming back around. "Something along the lines of... doppelgangers suffering the sins of their original because they're immortal or something."

"Where did you get that?" Alaric wondered.

"Talk to your boyfriend," Damon gestured his glass at Stefan as he sat in the leather chair. "He said it."

Stefan raised his head in surprise. "I did?"

"Last night..." Damon narrowed his eyes in realization as he took a drink. The compulsion, it had to be.

"Stefan?" Alaric asked.

The brothers eyed each other for a moment, each having different halves of the truth. Stefan was sure he would remember if he said something like that, even with Damon's compulsion as it didn't affect him like a regular human; Stefan still knew he was compelled, he still had the impression of what happened the other night—but not of what his brother was saying now. So was it because of Damon's compulsion, or was it something else?

Stefan sat up and leaned over for the sucker wrapper on the coffee table, his book replacing it on the table and wrapped the soggy paper stick in it as he picked tootsie from his teeth with his tongue. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he admitted.

"Either way, that doesn't sound very pleasant." Elena whispered.

Bonnie rubbed her narrow shoulder comfortingly. "Maybe it's something Emily told you from the Other Side."

Stefan laid back, this time changing positions and pillowing his head in Alaric's lap like he had wanted to from the beginning but pushed back impulse for fear it would be too distracting. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes tightening, but as always seemed to be the case, when he was trying to remember anything from his afterlife, a sharp pain radiated in his head. He blinked, gaze flickering over as Alaric's fingertips soothed the furrow from his brow.

Elena heaved a sigh. "It's getting late and Jenna wanted me back before 11. We should probably head out," she looked to Bonnie who nodded. "Do you think I could take some of these home with me?" she asked Alaric.

"Sure,"

Stefan was sure he was the only one who noticed her grabbing a tome with a cracked spine that read _Petrova_ as the 2 girls showed themselves out.

"Well, that's my cue." Damon announced a moment later, refilling his glass before he left.

"Before you go," Alaric called him to a stop. "Could I borrow some more blood bags? I'm running low at home."

"Borrowing implies a return, Teacher." Damon countered. "Blood's not particularly refundable after consumption."

"Damon," Stefan sighed.

Damon rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. "Fine. But," he stipulated, "You're going to start pulling your weight around here, which means compelling blood bags from the very generous citizens 2 county's over. We don't need any of it getting back to the Council, so spread the blood loss around a bit."

"Agreed. You could have fixed me a drink too while you were up," but the vampire was already gone, not that it mattered. A smirk flickered across his lips as he heard Damon's colourful retort, which was inaudible to other ears but his own.

Stefan reached up and traced the shell of Alaric's ear with a expression of nostalgia as he recognized the response. "I miss that," _he_ was the one who used to do that with Damon.

Alaric took his hand, kissing his fingertips then palm. "Adjustments."

"You could always go for a little hunt in the woods," Stefan suggested teasingly. "It'll help you fine-tune those predatory impulses in a safe environment."

"Yes, that second part holds merit," Alaric agreed.

Stefan raised an amused brow, "And the first part?"

"It's like saying: here, have some tofu bacon when there's turkey bacon right there."

_God, bacon._ "Why turkey bacon?" His hand unconsciously went to his stomach, hunger reignited at the talk of bacon, even metaphorical bacon used as a substitute for something else.

"Because blood in the blood bags has impurities, those chemicals they put in it so it doesn't clot. So it'll never be _as_ good as..."

"Straight from the vein." Stefan finished the line of thought. " _Real bacon._ " He sat up but shifted until he was sitting in the vampire's lap sideway, his back to the couch arm and his arm resting along the back behind Alaric's head.

"What are you up to?" Alaric wondered, even as his body automatically responded, curling around the warmth; his arm winding around the back of his waist, the other on his jean-clad thigh, a certain limb stirring at a particular secured heat source so close by, separated by layers of jean.

He knew he should pace himself for them both, let them more time to acclimate into their new skins as separate people before they came together—but it was the _separate_ that Stefan feared. "And do you want... real bacon?"

A miniscule rigidity went through the vampire at the proposed question. "Is that a trick question?"

Stefan fiddled with the hairs at the dirty-blond's nape. "I've been thinking..." he gnawed his bottom lip. "I want you to feed from me."

"What?" _Please, yes!_ Just the thought made his jaw ache with want. "No!"

"I want you to drink from me. My blood."

"Stefan, no." Alaric tried to shift Stefan from him, but the teen refused, twisting his finger in the hanger loop at the back of his collar.

Stefan fiddled with the buttons on his slate-coloured shirt. "If I hadn't been a Ripper, if I could control my blood hunger... would you have let me feed from _you_?" he posed the question, looking into his eyes.

There was confliction of emotions in his own blue eyes, his chest panting in anxiety even as he sat still. Of course the thought had crossed his mind, had probably always floated unanchored in the back of his mind—he had been dating a vampire after all. That want to give himself to Stefan like that, to cross that line which somehow seemed even more personal and intimate than sex. To be a factor in sustaining Stefan's life, to make Stefan stronger, to connect like that—but it had been too soon, Alaric wasn't ready, not then, just like the conversation of him becoming a vampire. Stefan feeding from him, in a recreational manner (because he would have given Stefan his blood in an instant in a life-death situation, had he not been compelled, in a heartbeat) was simply a free-floating concept that was cursed from the beginning due to circumstance, i.e. The Ripper, but had that not even been a factor like Stefan hypothesized, the idea simply was never given the opportunity to take root and grow, not with all that had happened in the past few weeks.

"No, Stefan." Alaric told him firmly, staring straight ahead and refusing to look at him. He dropped his hands, refusing to touch him. "I'm not going to feed from you. Please, get off, I don't want to hurt you."

Stefan ground his teeth in frustration. He needed something to make being in this state worth it, to find some sort of _use_ in this... human form. Having a normal life, finding a wife, a doctor's career, children—that was all well and good, the only problem was the testimony belonged to his previous human life. It held no meaning for him this time around because Alaric didn't belong to it, but Alaric and Damon seemed desperate to keep him like this so Stefan had to find his own meaning in life as a human—and this was what he had landed on. "Katherine used to feed from me until I passed out from the blood loss and then forced me to drink her blood before she compelled me to forget."

Alaric inhaled sharply. "If you think that's somehow going to change my mind--"

"That's not love. That's not care. That's-- that's greed and that's selfishness." Stefan was single-minded. He had denied himself so many things, for so long, for so many reasons; but things were different now, he was different now, those same reasons no longer restricted him, kept him constrained. They were simply no longer a part of him. "You're not her." Stefan stroked his face. "I'm not afraid of you."

"What was it that you always said to me?" Alaric grabbed his hand away and snapped with frustration. "'I'm the one thing you should be afraid of'." This time, he did push Stefan from him and to his feet, following.

"Throw my words back in my face, it doesn't change anything." Stefan glared up at him. "I'll still feel the same. I'll still want the same thing. I want you to drink my blood! I need--!"

Alaric grabbed his face almost roughly, his limbs shaking with barely controlled rage. "Why don't I just be like you? Huh? I won't give you the choice; I'll just compel the urge away! Put this entire issue to bed and you won't remember a thing."

"You can try," Stefan whispered, ignoring the pain ratchetting up in his head. He reached between them and started to unbuckle his belt clasp.

Alaric glanced down between them. "What are you doing?"

Stefan pulled the leather from his belt loops and dropped the strap to the floor with a clink. "There. That should make it easier for you, I'm vervain free now. Give it your best shot—God knows Damon did."

"What--" Alaric was taken aback. "What do you mean 'Damon did'? He compelled you?" his hands dropped to his shoulders. "Hey?"

"I let him. I wanted him to, I needed him to. He doesn't know I remember, or at least he didn't, vampire hearing and all that—but I remember it." Stefan admitted. "I try to tell myself ' _I want this, please let it work, let it be true. I want to be **human**. I want to be **alive**_ **. I don't want to be a vampire** '. I'm trying, but I don't think it's working, Ric. So compel me; maybe it will work this time. You and Damon are so fucking determined to keep me like this—I've been trying to come up with something to give that to you and stand to be in my own skin. As soon as I felt this stupid thing in my chest!" he thumped his fist harshly against his chest. "As soon as I realized I could no longer hear yours!" he pressed a hand against Alaric's. "I knew! I knew it was just a matter of time! So please—let me give this to you." He clenched his fist in the shirt. The ache in his head spiked suddenly, briefly, before it was like the pain drained downward, burning through his sinuses and leaving him faintly light-headed. "Let me do this for you, Ric."

"Your nose is bleeding." Alaric stared in both horror and fixation, the veins under his eyes engorging and feeding into his eyes, flooding his sclera with blood. His hands fisted in at material at Stefan's shoulders and it was like back at the hospital in the waiting room; lured like a charmed serpent.

"I'm human," Stefan whispered, watching him as he seemed to waver in and out, making no move to stop it as sluggish, uneven trails of blood drew a path from his nostrils, over his lips and down his chin. "It happens sometimes."

Alaric's body trembled with such _want_ and his body acted acutely to that accord. As it was about to drip from Stefan's chin and stain his shirt, Alaric's tongue peeked out from between his sharp fangs and caught it up, tongue flickering across Stefan's blood-striped chin.

" _Ah,_ " Alaric's blood-eyes flickered and a shiver went through his every cell from head to toes as that single drop of the brunette's blood was like a bolt of lightning through his predatory appetite. The vampire pulled him closer, mouth salivating at the scent, the sight, the taste.

Stefan closed his eyes as Alaric licked a strip from chin to nose over the warm blood, exhaling. Stefan remembered the wild mutt; as he lay broken at the bottom of the embankment after John Gilbert had clipped him with his truck and he awoke from temporary death as it licked the blood from his face. Perhaps this would have the same liberation for Alaric.

That blood, it went straight to Alaric’s cock. He pressed their foreheads together a little hard, trying to ground himself, fighting to urge to latch onto Stefan's neck and never let go. He knew he should probably put distance between them like that last time the urge had taken over and he'd nearly done it, but his body was locked in place. It refused to budge now that it had actually tasted his boyfriend's blood and with the prospect of _more._ God how he so wanted more, anything from the brunette. "Stefan," he pleaded.

Stefan's arms wrapped loosely around him, one hand cupping the nape of the dirty-blond's neck, the other rubbing up and down his flank, before tucking his hand under the loose tail of his slate button-up and palmed the small of his back. "I love you."

Alaric leaned his head back slightly, his sclera back to normal but the engorged veins were partially visible under his eyes, poised to flush his eyes at a moments notice. "Stefan, I--" There was great temptation in his eyes, want—and fear. "I don't know if I--" his gaze flicked to the teen’s neck and he gulped as salvia flood his mouth and he felt his fangs nip at the inside of his bottom lip.

"We can start small," Stefan told him, a restrained eagerness in his body language. "My wrist. Or maybe right here," he let go of Alaric's nape and took Alaric's own hand, untangling his fisted fingers from the material and pushed his hand into the neck hole of his shirt, laying his hand next to the of his neck on the more meaty part of his shoulder.

Alaric slowly licked his lips, his hand squeezing the warm (biteable) flesh underneath. "Okay," his voice was throaty and Stefan bit his lip and shivered a little.

"Okay," he gave a pleased smile. He pulled his hands from respective clothing and almost like his anchor was broken, Alaric sort of stumbled back a step and sat heavily on the leather couch behind him, staring up at the brunette. Stefan took the hem of his long sleeve and pulled it off overhead, dropping it onto the rug with his belt.

Alaric hadn't vocalized his preferred drinking limb and he didn't look like he was going to offer one up, the way he was staring at Stefan like he was T-bone steak walking towards a starving man. Stefan could see the tenting in his jeans and that encouraged the stirrings of his own to the next level of half-mast.

He knew that he shouldn't try to push his luck with this but he wanted to be close to the man—so he went with a compromise. Stefan stepped to him and bent his knee onto the couch beside Alaric's thigh, his other mirror the move on the other side and he straddled the man, but sat behind his knees and left a gap between their arousals. It would be best to try and keep the 2 separate at their first dry run.

Stefan rested his wrists on Alaric's shoulders, cupping his neck as his thumbs rubbed at his prickly stubble. He slowly leaned forward and pressed his lips against the teacher's; he was about to pull back again when Alaric wrapped his arms around him, 1 around his waist, the other his shoulders, hand cupping his jaw. The position pulled his hips forward, their confined cocks connecting and they gasped into each other's open mouths.

Stefan's arms wrapped around his neck, hugging him close as they kissed, his lust hijacking the driver's seat of his restraint as determined as he had been and rubbed against the thick bulge beneath. Alaric gave a hiss as his own hips rocked up, his blunt nails clawing red marks on the expanse of Stefan's muscle-rippling back. Alaric's mouth broke from Stefan's, kissing across his jaw. He mouthed along the column of the brunette's neck, his lips and tongue tracing the thick, thrumming artery as Stefan arched into him with a pant and moan of want. But Alaric forced himself away, no matter how much he may want, he could not.

He licked the hollow of Stefan's clavicle instead and moved back as he finally released his fangs with a sigh. His arms gave a minute tightening around the teen, who stilled—and the vampire bit the human. Stefan's breath hitched a little at the sharp piercing of fangs and the bluntness of surrounding flat human teeth that clenched into his flesh.

Alaric immediately and eagerly gulped as blood gushed a little in his mouth, his arms tightening further around the source in his lap. It tasted so delicious; he could taste the purity from chemical contamination, the natural warmth to it that warmed him differently that the electromagnetic heat of the microwave gave to his glass of blood in the morning if he was patient enough to warm it and not just drink straight from the blood bag.

Stefan winced. He remembered the viciousness with which Katherine used to feed from him with when he was human the first time around, but Alaric wasn't being vicious, he was excited, eager, like a toddler petting a puppy for the first time, not understanding how much was too much.

"Easy," Stefan uttered. "Hey, easy." His fingers dug into the back of the vampire's neck in warning; pain always worked better to pierce through the feeding-fog, the one that enticed to _drink until dry_. "I'm not going anywhere, you can always come back for seconds later." His empty stomach gave a whinge at the reminder of food and seconds, but Alaric did ease off the gulps.

Alaric took a moment to calm himself and pull from that dangerous _hungry don't stop_ black hole that was every vampire's cross to bear, some more than others. So he listened to Stefan's body; picked up beat of his heart, his breathing, the arousal flush of his skin, the fingers at the back of his neck. Alaric paused and just let the blood fill his mouth on its own accord, like rich chocolate melting in his mouth, he savoured it, let it indulge his palate for a brief moment before he could resist no longer and swallowed. He could swear he could feel Stefan's lifeblood sear a fantastically hotness through each cold, undead passage of his body, filling him. Stefan scratched his scalp enticingly and started to rock against the vampire's erection again.

Stefan was a model for self-control, self-restraint, it was a big part of his selfless nature that allowed him to put others and their needs above his own; and the compassionate part of him that made him _want_ to put others first and to nurture. To suppress his own desires and instead gain satisfaction and sense of meaning vicariously through those he helped. This was that, giving himself to Alaric like this, a part of himself, _feeding_ him, it was a soul-deep kind of satisfaction, not just bodily. But it also fed _his own_ desires; 2 birds with one fantastic stone.

Stefan ground down against him a little roughly as he peaked his climax and came crashing over the horizon with a breathless sound. Alaric could feel the entirety of it: every minuscule muscle contraction; every shudder, shiver, stutter; every heartbeat and pulse. Each gush of completion jolting through the teen and the overload of sensation pushed the vampire over the edge of his own sexual completion. Alaric's jaw involuntarily clenched as he came, as Stefan gave a small cry of his name and one last surge of blood filled his mouth before he released.

Stefan slumped boneless against him, panting into Alaric's neck. The vampire quickly recovered first, his tongue swathing gently over the weeping bite mark on Stefan's shoulder before it could make a mess and not want to waste a precious drop. Alaric rubbed his back. Stefan would have wanted to stay there, not because it was comfortable; he was starting to get pins and needles in his legs, his underwear was cold, wet, and sticky, but because he was curled up with Alaric in what had been weeks. But his stomach made an empty, gurgle-grumble sound and he was motivated.

"And that's my cue," Stefan raised his head and gave him a peck before pushing back onto his feet.

"Was that your stomach?" Alaric rose after him.

"All that talk of bacon," Stefan agreed. "You had yours, now I need mine." He bent to retrieve his shirt and belt from the floor and wavered as he straightened with a head rush.

Alaric quickly reached out, steadying him. The lightness and satisfaction that had taken his gaze in the previous moments was quickly swamped and overtaken with worry and shame. "Stef?" his gaze shifted from the teen’s slightly pallid cheeks to what now looked to him like a gory, gouged bite mark. Made by _his_ fangs and _his_ teeth. "I took too much. I knew this was a b--"

Stefan quickly stopped him before he could say more, a finger to his lips silencing him. "You didn't. You were very good, Alaric. You didn't lose control, that's more than I could have said for myself had our positions been reversed." He moved his finger and stroked his cheek. "I haven't eaten in a bit and I plan of fixing that very soon." He took the vampire's hand and left him no other choice but to follow him up the stairs.

They hopped into the shower for a quick wash and despite his rearing hunger, Stefan stood in front of the sink, the medicine cabinet open and let Alaric fuss over him for a moment and clean and dress the bite. He'd gotten the things that crowded the small glass shelves in the cabinet for Alaric to use should the need arise, but found himself the one in need of them instead.

After, it was a straight path to the kitchen. Stefan grabbed a large frying pan and put it on the burner to preheat as he grabbed the package of bacon sitting on the shelf, along with a few partnering items. But Alaric quickly took authority over the cooking bacon and made Stefan _sit_ on a stool to drink a large glass of orange juice as he used the chopping board to cut tomato, cheese, and lettuce.

"Make sure it's crispy but not burnt," Stefan said, attempting to magically obtain x-ray vision to see though the vampire to get a sight on the sizzling meat without getting up from the stool as strictly instructed as his stomach growled something fierce at the permitting scent.

"Stop trying to backseat cook," Alaric admonished over his shoulder with a chuckle. "Besides," he turned serious. "If man knows how to cook one thing—it's bacon."

"That does seem to be the consensus, I've observed." Stefan agreed. He started to spread melted butter on slices of bread. "But you realize, for the record... this does not count as that dinner you're supposed to cook me."

"Now you're just splitting hairs," he pouted, turning to him.

Stefan pointed at him with the butter knife, "You're not going to 'cute' your way out of it, Ric, so don't even try."

"You think I'm cute?"

"No matter how much you are, you can't talk me out of you cooking for me."

"I wasn't," he grinned. "I just wanted you to call me cute." He turnedd back to the stove with triumph, shifting around the bacon.

"I could start calling you 'cutie pie'," Stefan offered, his face straight when Alaric shot a dubious frown at him. "I think I like that; 'cutie pie'. That apron does look rather becoming on you... Cutie pie." He murmured, cruising the vampire's ass.

Alaric set the tongs down and turned to the counter island, looking at the brunette searchingly. "I can't tell if you're serious or just trying to embarrass me,"

Stefan gave him a little smile. "A bit of both, perhaps."

"Hm," Alaric tore some paper towels from the stand and lined the waiting plate with them in preparation for the bacon, keeping a keen eye on the strips at this crucial precipice between crispy just-right and crispy burnt.

Stefan drained the last few swallows of OJ from his glass and finally stood. He took the sandwich grill out from the cupboard below the island where it was stored and plugged it into the socket on the countertop to heat up as Alaric turned off the flame and started to put the bacon on the lined plate—Damon chose that moment to venture in, drawn by the enticing scent of bacon.

"Glad to see you're decent," Damon said, his eyes subtly darting to the plate of bacon at Stefan's elbow as the teen started to assemble 2 sandwiches on his way around to the fridge, "After the not-so-decent sounds I heard coming from the library." He casually tossed the cold blood bag from hand to hand. "I hope you didn't stain the furniture,"

His brother paused in laying the cheese. "Which answer would you prefer," Stefan offered politely, it was bellied by the glint in his green eyes, "The brotherly answer that will skeeve you out the most or the truth?"

Damon eyed him for a moment. "That's a trick question, isn't it? The answer’s probably the same either way."

Stefan grinned. "Which answer would you prefer..."

Damon held up his hand, cutting off his speech. "I don't want to know, really. I take back my question. You can keep the answers to yourself and we can call this conversation over. Alright? Good." He snatched a piece of crispy bacon piled on the bed of paper towel on his way out.

Sniggering to himself, Stefan said: "Sex bacon!" with a wink at an amusedly conflicted Alaric, knowing his brother would hear.

"Don't you dare try to ruin bacon for me!" Damon shouted back right on cue and the brunette laughed.

Confliction clearly over as Alaric chuckled with him, Stefan finished the sandwich assembly (with a few more absent pieces of bacon stolen by the teacher) and carefully laid them on the heated grill. The melted butter on the outside facing slices sizzled lightly and he lowered the top grill. Alaric used the opportunity to tidy up and pour Stefan another glass of OJ and 5 minutes later proceeded to watched the hungry teenage inhale 2-- well, 1 and a half BLT sandwiches (briefly) because he was generous enough to offer a half to his boyfriend even though he could easily and did want to wolf it down. Alaric could see it clearly in his eyes and declined, earning him a thankful grin that was quickly overtaken by food. Stefan had fed him, had literally given his blood, Alaric wasn't going to take his bacon away.

**_~ T V D ~_ **

"Mgh!" Stefan was jolted terribly from a deep sleep, looking around his room in disorientation, the sleep fog quickly pulled him back when he couldn't discern any immediate threat, his eyelids shuttering down.

"Well, that's not very brotherly of you, Stefy." Damon sat in the empty space on the bed beside him, reclined back against the headboard comfortably. "Not after all the terrific big brotherly things I've done for you lately. Point in fact—this." And he slapped a medium thick folder against the sleeping teen's chest.

Stefan didn't even look at it. "What do you want? Go 'way," he groaned, pushing the folder off. He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face his pillow, relaxing back into it with an exhale.

"Wow. This is the thanks I get for getting all valid material just for you and your big boy test?"

"You unnecessarily woke me up about my driver's test that is _tomorrow_ ," the scorn was clear even through the muffle of the pillow.

"It is Thursday, you dope." Damon told him. "All that blood loss must be messing with you."

Stefan chose to ignore that last pointed remark and reached blindly behind him, but eerily accurate for his cell phone next to his inert alarm clock. He cracked an eye just enough to focus blearily on the date on the screen and nothing else just long enough to erase that 1% account that Damon was telling the truth and that it might actually be Thursday, before he pointedly shoved the screen at his brother's face. "See; Wednesday." His arm dropped and he snuggled back into his pillow.

"You got me." Folder neatly set in his lap, Damon picked up the picture frame set on his Stefan nigh table on this side of the bed and examined it; Stefan, Elena, and Bon Bon, each in their particular Timber Wolf uniforms, Stef in his football uniform and the 2 girls in their hot little cheerleading outfits. Stefan stood in the middle with an actual smile on his face and perfect hero-hair, his arms flexing parallel to the horizon, the perfect standing board for Elena and Bonnie who were stood up on either of his strong shoulders, a hand wrapped around an ankle each in support as the 2 cheerleaders preformed a high-kick, pompoms in the air and smoky looks on their pretty faces. It was a feat that would come easy to any vampire as his brother had been at the time, but was something the brunette would definitely struggle with now. Maybe he'd be able to have one of the girls on his shoulder, but Stefan would never trust himself to have her stand, sitting would definitely be his limit of adventure. "Still... you slept through your alarm,"

"What?" Stefan sat up and grabbed his clock. 7:22. "Why didn't you wake me?" he slammed it down and threw off his blanket, jumping out of bed.

Damon watched him in amusement. "I just did,"

Stefan paused long enough to scowl at him, before continuing into his en suite, after a rushed version of his usual bathroom pre-school routine, minus the shower, Stefan came out 15 minutes later to find Damon still lounging on his bed.

"What is it you want?" he asked over his shoulder as he went over to his bureau and feed Salvatore.

"World domination, complete control of your life... you know, the usual." Damon answered.

Stefan rolled his eyes and went to his wardrobe, pulling the doors open. "Aaand…?" he prompted. "What's your third and final wish?"

"I only get 3?" he complained. "Typical. Still missing out on the brotherly love, Stefan."

Stefan gave his head a little shake, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. "Being generous—not that you deserve it—I'll give you another for an early Christmas gift." He stripped from his sleep pants and slipped on a pair of jeans.

"Saint Stefan strikes again," Damon scooted to sit at the foot of his bed. "You're too easy, brother."

"The thanks I get for being brotherly," he huffed, stringing his belt through the waist loops.

"As I was saying..."

"Yes. What exactly are you saying?" he mused. "Get to the point, please. I'm on a timeline here." He pulled his tee shirt off overhead and looked through his options.

Damon sent at glower at the stark-white bandaged taped over his baby brother's shoulder. "Tell ebony and ivory when they get here not to bother tomorrow, I'll be driving you _and_ picking you up for your test."

Stefan put on a black pullover sweater with a v-neck, pushing the sleeves up to his elbows. "They have names, you know."

Damon ignored him and flapped the folder. "Gotta make sure no red flags go up on your shiny new human life at the DMV seeing as I'm the only one in this relationship that possesses the goods—meaning compulsion and a whole host of others. I'll even take you to the Grill after to celebrate when you pass. Won't you like that?" he patronized.

"You need friends your own age." Stefan said, distracted from what exactly that folder was that the vampire kept waving about by the tone. Damon gave him a look. "You know what I mean... your mental age, not your physical age." Damon whipped a pillow at him with vampire speed, Stefan laughing even after it whopped him and he tucked it under his arm. "I'm serious."

"When aren't you?" Damon rolled his eyes at his brother's vitally pursed lips. "Jenna's been trying to set me up with one of her friends..." he indulged, "maybe I'll finally take up the offer and get some much-needed fresh meals out of it."

"Damon!" Stefan stepped forward in protest.

"What?" he shrugged. "I promise to leave her alive afterwards, 'tis the Holiday season after all."

But Stefan still had on his broody forehead; he knew Damon was just doing it to mess with him, the vampire wouldn't risk ruining the perfect cover-up of his previous killing to get a response out of his virtuous little brother by staking his best-friend. But Stefan still worried, he always worried, as Damon called him on his one brooding good look.

"Unless you're offering to open a tap, brother?" Damon waggled his dark brows. "Well?"

"Don't make it weird," Stefan told him. He approached the bed to put his pillow back.

When he went to turn away, Damon grasped his wrist, pulling him back. "You'll open your veins for your vampire boyfriend but not your own brother?" he delivered loftily, looking up at his brother.

Stefan stared back as his brother, attempting to see beyond the presented cocky expression that was 1 of Damon's resting expressions, but he couldn't tell if it was true displeasure on the subject or just screwing with him again. So Stefan did what he always would have done—he sat on the bed beside his brother, Damon still holding his wrist, so he silently offered his free one to the vampire.

Damon looked at him for a moment before he scoffed and gave his head a shake. "You would really do it too, wouldn't you, Saint Stefan?"

Stefan sighed and dropped his aloft wrist. "You're my brother, Damon. Of course I would. If you needed it. If you were actually _serious_ and not just trying to trick and embarrass me. Yeah, I would. So?" he offered his wrist again questioningly. A look Stefan didn't think he'd ever seen before flashed through the vampire's blue eyes too fast to grab hold of and attempt to decipher.

Damon released his wrist. "That's a little too brother-brother for my tastes," he snarked and left just as fluidly as he'd come.

Stefan stared after him for a long moment before his gaze was drawn to the folder laying on his mussed bed. He picked it up and opened the cover in his lap, staring for a moment with incomprehension and amazement—at what appeared to be his birth certificate. Carefully he ran his finger's over the printed stock; the raised security designs, his name, the name of his parents. This was no fake, well it was in the sense that it was a forgery, obviously, but it was a **real** forgery, legitimate. He flipped the page over to next and stared at his social security document; health insurance card; _school_ records, in which he apparently skipped 3rd grd. and that was why he only turned 17 this November; medical records from his recent past stay where a battery of tests had been taken, shots given, exams had.

Stefan made a sound. Oh, look at that—evidently he had type AB- blood.

"Damon?" he called, staring at page after page of the intricate details of a life— _his_ life apparently.

A few minutes later Damon arrived with a sigh, his hands clasped in front of him. "Yes, Master Salvatore. I come when you call."

Stefan stared over at him. "What is all this? Wha--?" he shook his head.

Damon's hands dropped back to his side. "You know what it is."

"But-- how? why?" he continued to be dumbfounded.

"You're a real boy now, Stefan." Damon went to ruffle his perfectly styled coif, but even with his mind overwhelmed, his body reacted by instinct and he managed to deflect his older brother's hand. "That means you have to live by the rules of society. You've always been into law and order, right? Well, this is all the shit you need to be a legit human nowadays."

"You did all of this... for me?" he murmured with wonder. He closed the folder and carefully set it aside before he stood in front of his brother. Stefan grinned, biting his bottom lip to try and suppress it and failing abysmally. "You love me."

Damon gave his gooey emotional oozing baby brother a wary eye. "Okay, don't go getting sentimental, Stefan. It makes me want to gag so dial the star-eyes down a notch, huh?" he was about to step away, but before he could react, Stefan flung himself at him, wrapping his arms around him, chin on his shoulder. "What the hell are you doing?" he exclaimed.

"You love me and I love you, too."

"Uh-huh. Right." Damon's body tensed, Stefan could feel the strength gather up in his muscles, ready to wrench himself free.

"I'm preciously human now," he quickly piped up, halting him. "You don't want to break the thing you've been putting so much time and effort into keeping intact, now do you?"

His shoulders slumped. "I've been calling you 'Saint Stefan' all this time and I've just realized now that I was using it in the ironical sense. You're truly a Master Manipulator wearing a Choir Boy suit. I find myself vaguely impressed, brother."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself to get a good night's sleep." Stefan humoured.

"Look, we had the hugging thing a couple weeks ago—can we wrap this up?"

"Just shut up and take it. All you have to do is hug me back and it'll all be over soon enough."

Damon grumbled and gave him a squeeze so fast it was partially influenced by vamp-speed before he dropped his arms forlornly back to his sides. "There. Now get off me." He writhed around but Stefan was like a damned octopus. "You said if I hugged you back it would be over."

"Soon enough."

"This is a cruel and unusual punishment," he muttered.

"Why does this have to be a punishment?" Stefan asked quietly, sadly. "I'm trying to say thank you for what you did. The last time we hugged... was after I almost killed you." His voiced broke and his arms involuntarily tightened around him, hands clutching as the memory assailed him.

"God dammit," Damon cursed and his arms went instinctively back around his brother, proper. "We've been over this. When are you going to let it go?" his hand squeezed the brunette's nape comfortingly.

Stefan squeezed his eyes closed, pressing his face into Damon's shoulder, inhaling the scent of his cologne, the clench in his heart easing. "I can't help it."

"It happened. It can't un-happen. It's in the past, just like everything else. There's no humanity switch you can flip off or unending, devouring hunger you have to contend anymore." Stefan inhaled sharply at the reminder of the last bit; those 2 grilled BLT sandwiches he'd had before bed held him through the night and into a deep sleep, but now... "Now, come on," Damon clapped him on the back, "If you keep this up you're going to be late for school."

"Bonnie and Elena will understand."

"Oh, we understand." Elena spoke up from the doorway, a huge smile on her face and eyes bright. "Loud and clear. Take all the time you need, Stefan."

"Say cheese!" Damon sent a glare over just as Bonnie's cell flashed, capturing the cute brotherly moment in a pixelated still.

"Bennett," he warned, pushing Stefan away. Making a move towards her; he was going to smash it to little bits, microwave those bits before he set them on fire with sugar, dumped water on it, then bury it deep into the earth.

"Uh-uh!" she raised her hand, freezing the vampire in his tracks; from anyone else he already would have snapped their neck or tore open their throat, but with Bennett, it wasn't a threat, it was a promise. "Brain exploding, remember? And you haven't even felt it at my full power." She thumbed her screen, tapping it a few times. "There," she slipped it into her pocket. "It's in The Cloud now. Try anything and I'll post it on Facebook and Twitter, and I'll create accounts of every other social media network just to post and share it there and it will never be able to be taken back."

"I don't take kindly to being blackmailed," he growled lowly.

"Don't think of it like that. Let's just call it a truce,"

He asked lightly, "Haven't I shown you a hundred things to prove I'm a changed vampire?"

Bonnie scoffed. "Like you wouldn't rip my throat out now if you could."

"Stefan can't protect you now." Damon pointed out.

"I don't need Stefan to protect me,"

Stefan turned his face away to hide the grimace on his face at their words, using picking up the folder from his bed as a cover and took it over his bureau to put in the locked drawer. He was glad that Bonnie was strong enough now that she didn't _need_ someone to protect her (not like when Damon attacked her after she was possessed by Emily, or when Anna had kidnapped her and Elena); but now, as things stood, it wasn't as if he _could_ protect her or either of them if they needed it now. _I can't stay like this_ , he tried to ignore the spiral inducing words. _If something happens, I can't be counted on. I'm not strong enough like this. But if I was a va--_

"Hey," Elena murmured, arms looping around his waist from the side.

He managed to stifle the jolt. "Hey."

"What's that?" she watched him lock the drawer up.

"My human life all written up, signed, sealed and dated. It's official now," he couldn't quite stifle the bitter twist to his lips with those thoughts still swimming in his head with teeth.

She gave him a warm squeeze. "Being suddenly human can't be easy after living a certain way over the past 145 years. But maybe if you think of it as puberty," he raised a surprised and bewildered brow at that and she gave a smirk, "It's like breaking into a new pair of shoes that you'll eventually grow out of, only to get another that will wear and become a comfort. Trademarked girl metaphor, _Teen_ magazine." she winked.

Stefan gave a little chuckle and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Cute and to the point, and you even cited your source. A+ material. Too bad it's not in French, then you might have gotten more than that C+."

"Funny."

"Close your eyes."

Her attention was drawn to the key in his hand. "You don't trust me?"

"Just a precaution," he teased.

She gave him a little playful pout, but closed her eyes. She snorted when the hand on her shoulder moved up to cover her eyes. He slipped it into the little decoration box next to Salvatore's bowl on the shelf. "There," he dropped his hand. "Now you'll never find it."

"We probably are going to be late with those 2 bickering," she jerked her head back at Damon and Bonnie who were practically toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose, snippy and glowering at each other like temperamental alley cats. "Have you eaten yet?" Stefan unconsciously rubbed his unfed stomach and it growled in verbal response. "I'll take that as a resounding no. Come on," she steered him around the engaged pair from the bedroom.

Stefan made himself a large bowl of Mini Wheat’s as Elena poured them coffee from the brewed pot.

"You're going to need to go shopping—soon." Elena remarked, putting the carton of creamer back into the 'fridge. She'd shopped enough to last what would have been 2 weeks in her own household with her, Jeremy, and Jenna, but she was already seeing noticeable gaps and space and it hadn't even been a full week with just Stefan eating.

"Mm," Stefan hummed in agreement, drinking his coffee.

"Need company?" she offered.

Stefan grinned. "You bring the car, I bring the money?" he poured another bowl of cereal, this smaller than the last only because the bag was empty—just compounding the need to shop.

"You have you're driver's test tomorrow, right?" he nodded. "We can go after school on Friday."

"That sounds great, thanks." He poured milk on it and started to eat.

"What are you guys doing?" Bonnie came into the kitchen a few minutes later. "Come on, we're going to be late." The two brunettes exchanged humoured looks.

Stefan finished his cereal and dumped the rest of the snack cracker packets from the box into his messenger bag and he was good to go; he followed after the girls. He would just buy lunch at school. He didn't bother with blood this morning and it wasn't because there wasn't time. Alaric had told him last night before he left that he needed to work out the kinks for himself. Still, bringing Alaric blood in a thermos or travel mug was like bringing his boyfriend a cup of coffee if they were regular people, not a hunter-turned-vampire and vampire-turned human couple.

**~ _T V D_ ~**

True to his word, Damon drove Stefan to school and picked him up after for his appointment at the DMV. But, there had been no need to worry, Damon had done a clean job of compelling the documents in Stefan's name.

The brunette finished the written quickly, though he needed to thank Elena for the manual she had given him to refresh his memory on the more technical applications of the road. His practical test went well with the instructor, with the exception of having to prevent Damon from using his compulsion to put his at the front of the cue as much as Stefan would have secretly liked to indulge in that his good conscious got the better of him, and despite his rapidly growing hunger causing him distraction. Finally his photo was taken, the forms filled out, and they were ready to leave.

"Remind me to never do that again." Damon's Camaro's engine rumbled to life, the soft-top up.

"Should have let you use compulsion," Stefan uttered, cracking his neck and clipping on his seatbelt.

Damon smirked as he pulled into traffic. "Yeah, you should have. Why did I listen to you again?"

"Hey, I'm just following your wishes." Stefan returned. "Can you drive any slower? I'm starving." Damon grinned and gunned it down the block.

Once in the Grill, Damon headed to the bar for a much needed drink and Stefan claimed an empty booth.

"Hey, Stefan." Matt came to take his order. "Heard from the Queen of Gossip your driver's test was today. Good news?"

"Caroline," Stefan chuckled with a headshake. "They took my photo, I think that's a good sign."

"So why the wait?" Matt wondered. "How did you get to school before?"

"Ran," he said without really thinking about it. He didn't need a car when he could use his vamp-speed, cutting through the woods, and be into town under 3 minutes.

The blond gave a low whistle, impressed. "That's gotta be... almost 8 miles. Every morning, man. You sure you don't want to rejoin the Timber Wolves?"

Stefan gave him an awkward smile. "Yeah, sorry. But you don't need me. You and Tyler got it, all those trophies in the display case are proof."

Matt gave a little grin. "Alright. I'll be back with your order."

Things had definitely become more amicable between the 3 of them since he broke up with Elena.

"When I said 'order whatever, I'm buying', I didn't mean order the whole menu." Damon commented when he finally returned from the bar with half a bourbon and slid into the booth across from the brunette. Stefan already working his way methodically throw chilli fries, onion rings, and a chicken salad, which was really an odd combination of courses.

"It's not the whole menu," Stefan returned when he paused long enough to drink before his mouth once again became occupied with more tastier things.

"There are like, 5 things on the plastic laminated menu." Damon drank as he watched Matt approach with a second loaded tray and added a hamburger with the works and a plate of honey garlic Buffalo wings to the table. "Oh, and look," he mock counted the plates cluttering the booth table: Hamburger with the works. Onion rings. Chilli fries. Chicken salad. And Buffalo wings. "Five. Now, I may not have gone to a dozen fancy schools like you to learn my numbers, but I'm still pretty sure that's 5."

Matt refilled Stefan's iced tea. "Dude, I think he's right."

"See, Stef. Even Barbie Ken says I'm right and he works here. It's a professional opinion." Matt wasn't impressed with the nickname.

"I didn't know you could count, big brother. I'm proud of you." Stefan took a big bite out of his burger. "I also ordered dessert, hope you don't mind."

Matt gave a little chuckle at Damon's scowl. "And I’ll be back with that, too. Call if you want another refill or doggy bag." He went to turn away.

"I sure could use a refill," Damon slid his tumbler across the smooth surface of the table to him.

"Sorry," Matt turned back. "I'm not 18 so I can't serve alcohol."

Damon leaned forward and caught the quarterback's gaze. "Do it anyway," he compelled.

"I'll do it anyway," Matt repeated in a flat voice, and took the glass.

Stefan watched him go. "Dammit, Damon." He turned a disapproving stare onto his unrepentant brother, "You didn't have to compel him."

"He wasn't going to serve me otherwise," Damon said, "You don't want me to leave a negative statement on the comment card, do you?"

"You're going to get him fired!" he hissed.

Matt returned, unassaulted by management and set Damon's bourbon in front of the vampire.

"See, he's fine!" Damon took a sip before he once again caught the blond's gaze, his pupil's contracting: "Now every time I snap my fingers, I want a refill. Got it?" Matt nodded robotically. Stefan sent him a deathly glare. "Don't get caught," Damon added for Stefan's benefit. "Wouldn't want my drink slave getting fired, now would I?"

He broke the gaze and Matt blinked as the compulsion took affect. "Um..." he gave his head a little confused shake. "I'll be back with your cake, Stefan."

"Yeah. Thanks." Stefan kicked his brother under the table in anger, not able to verbally yell at him like he wanted without drawing attention.

Damon didn't even flinch as he drank. "Don't play footsies with me unless you mean it, baby brother." Stefan went back to his food after a sharp glare at the vampire, working methodically through the assortment of dishes. "You know, I don't remember you being such a pig the last time we were human." He swirled his bourbon.

Stefan just gave a derisive snort. His brother had absolutely no idea. Stefan could pack away this lot and then some, and that was exactly what he was doing. But Damon was right—his vague recollections of his human-life on this particular subject was that he'd never come this close to the hunger he felt now. He could remember getting hungry and snack on an freshly picked apple and that single piece of fruit would hold him for hours until dinner. But doing that now... it would be like some cruel joke. The hunger he felt now, gave him pains that made him clutch as his stomach with painful cramps. He was ravenous, only sated for such a short period like he hadn't consumed enough food to feed 3 regular humans—because this hunger was not normal. Stefan _stuffed_ himself, but it only ever gave him such a brief respite (which was little better than his Ripper blood hunger) for which he used the time to obsess about what he was going to eat next, all the time the mantra of _foodfoodfoodfood_ chanting in the back of his head instead of _bloodbloodbloodblood_.

A hand suddenly came into his peripheral, reaching for his plate and Stefan reacted like territorial dog about his food dish as he ate—and grabbed the wrist without even consciously processing it.

"Whoa! Easy, man."

Stefan instantly let go as Damon watched with a raised brow and slightly narrowed eyes. "Sorry, Matt. I didn't-- you surprised me."

"Don't worry, it was my bad." Matt shook his head and flexed his wrist. "I should know better by now than to encroach on a guy's eating space. I just got your dessert and Damon's refill, thought I'd just take some of your empty plates."

"Of course. Thank you," Matt retreated.

"You always were territorial over your food," the vampire smirked and Stefan grimaced, knowing his brother was talking about _people_.

Stefan felt disturbed with himself by his reaction. And that had just been Matt reaching for an _empty_ plate and it wasn't like there wasn't enough to go around—if that had actually been the quarterback's intention—yet, he'd responded in a clear volatile way. If he'd been a vampire, he probably would have Ripped into the blond. Stefan had no problem sharing with Alaric, but then again, it was always _him_ offering the bampi his food. Of course, he thought maybe Alaric knew, at least subconsciously not to just take his food, maybe taking into account what he knew about the Ripper's habits as Damon had just pointed out.

Damon leaned forward and reached across the table. Stefan held himself consciously, letting his brother snag a wing from his plate. The vampire smirked as he saw the brunette's finger twitch and bit into the wing, tearing meat off the bone with his flat human teeth.

Stefan wished he could say he pushed the plate away.

**~ _T V D_ ~**

Stefan sat on the edge of low stone ledge of the front porch staring at the Automotive Public Administration letter that he found this Wednesday’s morning, bestowing his driver's licence, the card stuck on the paper. And somehow, this was the thing that made this **life** _real_. Not eating food, not Alaric feeding from him, not the headaches or the nosebleeds. This plastic card with his photo on it, his half-fake half-real birth date, his signature.

It wasn't that he hadn't had fake IDs before when he wanted to stick around in a place for a few years, get a job so he didn't have to compel people every which way after and appear as normal as possible as someone who didn't age and who survived off blood could. Big cities were easier to show up out of the blue in and blend in, but it meant he had to go out of his way to feed. Smaller towns had a better menu, but were impossible to stay anonymous in, a strange face in the community.

But this wasn't some _fake_ ID, the only falsity was the year he was born and looking at him, no one would think twice that he wasn't a regular 17 year old boy. Because really, that's what he was now, wasn't he?

An unexpected grin pulled at the corner of his mouth; _I don't have to **pretend** to be human anymore because I actually **am** human._ The thought took him pleasantly unawares. How many times had he wished that there was some impossible, magical cure out there?

Guess he got to drive to school now and the grin went full-blown. He pulled the licence from the paper and slid it into the clear pocket in his wallet and folded the letter up in his back pocket. Stefan grabbed his bag and hopped down the porch steps. He unlocked one of the several garage doors and pulled it up, the sun clearing away the darkness. He set his bag on the worktable next to the door and stepped into the room to the covered object at its center.

Stefan grabbed the corner of the protective cover and yanked the tarp from his 1963 Porsche 356B Karmanne Coupe, dust particles filling the garage. "Hello again, lovely." He grinned. "Back together again after all these years."

He circled it, giving it the few minutes of appreciation it deserved before he retrieved his bag and unlocked the door, sliding into the front seat like a breath of home. Stefan rarely allowed himself extravagances, but this was 1 of those rare acceptances he allowed himself. He'd had it just shy of 50 years. It was actually one of the first off the assembly line, his by way of compulsion that he felt utterly no guilt about. As soon as he'd seen it, he knew he had to have it.

He glanced over at the similarly tarped vehicle standing off to the side, his T-100 Triumph that Damon had gotten him. His motorcycle licence was combined with his original and it was just a matter of winter's end before he got to straddle the monster on the road—not that any of the vampires in his life needed to know that just yet.

_Maybe I can really do this... being 'human' thing._

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

* * *

 

  **ALTERNATE DELETED SCENES: _Below is the_ original _feeding scene that I wrote between Alarfan in the chapter above that I found I wasn't very happy with, I can't specifically tell you why, so I rewrote it. But here it is for your (bonus) reading pleasure with some blood and sex:_**

Stefan closed his eyes as Alaric licked a strip from chin to nose over the warm blood, exhaling. Stefan remembered the wild mutt; as he lay broken at the bottom of the embankment after John Gilbert had clipped him with his truck and he awoke from temporary death as it licked the blood from his face. Perhaps this would have the same liberation for Alaric.

Alaric pulled back slightly, giving a dissatisfied growl at the lack of further blood. He was still hungry—for blood and wanting of something else. He cupped the back of the teen's head and crushed their lips together hungrily. In the back of his head, in the human subconscious part, the teacher knew he should step back and cool off a little, but the predatory was so much louder. He was going to finish what he should have in the kitchen nearly 2 weeks ago.

He devoured the teen with wet, heated kisses.

Stefan gave a little sound of protest as Alaric tore the thin cotton and polyester blend of his long sleeve, this was 1 of his favourite shirts. But the sound quickly took on a more pleasured expression as the vampire mouthed down his chest before taking one of his nipples between his lips. Stefan threaded his fingers into the dirty-blond hair.

"Ah!" Stefan gasped, a little surprised and a little in pain as Alaric's fang nicked his peaked nipple in a pseudo piercing.

In apology, Alaric swathed the assaulted bud with his tongue, soothing the sting and collecting the resulting drop of blood. Nuzzling for a moment against the teen's defined chest, Alaric managed to will his fangs back into hiding, if temporarily, and he resumed kissing and licking his way down Stefan's taut abdominal muscles. Fingers curled in the waist of his jeans and Stefan hips jerked as his button popped off and his zipper was torn against the vampire's hurried strength and impatient lust.

"Ri-- Hng!" Alaric's mouth enveloped him, his engorged and leaking arousal barely free from the torn material as it fell down his legs. Stefan moaned, his knees instantly feeling weak and hands scrambled for purchase and stabilization; Alaric's shoulders, Alaric's hair. He needed to acclimate, he needed-- but Alaric's arms wrapped around his bare thighs, pulling him forward, taking him deeper and Stefan fell over him, onto him, catching himself on the back of the couch, knees braced on the edge of the couch, Alaric under him.

But the awkward position didn't even cause the vampire pause or hitch and Alaric took him impossibly deeper and swallowed around his head. Stefan had no control, no power or strength to be able to resist, to hold out, to prolong his release that he had been able to maintain as a vampire—and he came straight down Alaric's throat with a grunt and jolts. A shockwave of euphoria went through him, taking any strength from his legs as Alaric released his sensitive, flaccid cock and eased him with strokes on his trembling flank.

Alaric mouthed the inside of Stefan's right thigh, feeling the beautiful thrum of the lively femoral artery close to the surface with activity against his lips and he let his fangs descend fully from his gums where they had already lain peaked out.

Stefan felt the sharp pinch at the inside of his thigh, Alaric's lips and pressure. He raised himself a little shakily and looked down his torso and the torn curtain of his torn shirt and watched as his boyfriends carefully drank from him with slow draws. Stefan carefully sat back a little further, a rumble going through Alaric's chest and his arms around the teen tightening, holding all the strength and support the brunette needed not to tumble backwards.

Stefan watched and he felt as he stroked the flush in the vampire's pale neck, his red sclera eyes half-lidded as he gazed up at the human. Stefan could feel the arousal, his cock fighting to try and harden again in show, but the blood flow was diverted down another path, But deeper than arousal, he felt something even more fulfilling. Stefan was a model for self-control, self-restraint, it was a big part of his selfless nature that allowed him to put others and their needs above his own; and the compassionate part of him that made him _want_ to put others first and to nurture. To suppress his own desires and instead gain satisfaction and sense of meaning vicariously through those he helped. This was that, giving himself to Alaric like this, a part of himself, _feeding_ him, it was a soul-deep kind of satisfaction, not just bodily.

With a sigh, Alaric gentle released his mouth, licking the blood from his lips as his eyes slowly returned to their normal blue and his fangs retracted as blood leaked from the puncture marks on Stefan's thigh. Alaric held him like he weighed no more than a pillow, and turned their positions, sitting Stefan back onto the leather couch. Knelt in front between Stefan’s legs, he licked his fang puncture wounds with flat-tongued strokes until the blood slowed then stopped as it finally clotted, drinking up every last bit of blood before he laid his head contently in the teen's lap, thumb stroking the top of his thigh. Stefan slouched back on the couch, feeling slightly light-headed, but otherwise great, his fingers stroking the nape of the dirty-blond's neck.

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

**X**

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

**The Original Grill Scene:**

Stefan had passed his test, got his picture taken and was expecting his licence in the mail. Damon's presence had been completely unnecessary, all his compulsion of real documents had thrown up zero red flags, but Stefan did hold his brother to the promise of taking him out to 'celebrate'; i.e. food. And he was starving. Thus:

"When I said 'order whatever you want, I'm buying', I didn't mean order the whole menu." Damon commented, watching the teen dig into dishes already served to him and the server return with another filled tray of plates.

"Thank you," Stefan said to the server. His nametag said 'Garrett' pinned to his _Grill_ uniform shirt. Stefan thought he seemed vaguely familiar as in another face in the sea of faces at school. They might have been in the same year, but definitely not the same classes.

"No problem. Call if you want a refill or doggy bag," the young man left.

"And it's not the whole menu," Stefan pointed out to his brother before his mouth became occupied with chili fries.

"There are like, 5 things on the plastic laminated menu." Damon drawled. "One of this towns own handful of eating establishments. Oh, and look," he mock counted the plates cluttering the booth table: Hamburger with the works. Onion rings. Chili fries. Chicken salad. And ribs. "Five. Now, I may not have gone to a dozen fancy schools like you to learn my numbers, but I'm still pretty sure that's 5."

Stefan gave him a slow clap. "I'm proud of you, big brother." He took a big bite from the burger with satisfaction. "Still not everything on the menu. But I did order dessert, too. Hope you don't mind. Celebrations need dessert, after all."

"Yes, congratulations on picking up how to drive in the last 123 years. Glad you finally sponged up something useful in that big brain of yours." Stefan just rolled his eyes, his mouth having way better things to do than respond as he ate. "You sure you can pack that all away? I don't remember you being this much of a pig when we were humans."

Stefan snort and swallowed, drinking some of his iced tea. "You have no idea." He finished his burger.

"Well. I need a drink—and to not witness... this." Damon waved a hand at his brother with a shudder, who was busy stuffing his pretty mouth and slid out from his side of the booth and over to the bar.

Stefan could pack this away and then some and that was exactly what he was doing. But Damon had been right about one thing—he never remembered hunger like this when he was human the first time. He vaguely remembered getting hungry but snacking on an apple could sate him for hours, but now he got hunger pains that made him clutch his stomach with cramps. He was ravenous, only sated for such a short period like he didn't consume a hardy meal that was volume enough to feed 3 normal people. But this was not even close to normal hunger, this was obsession, this was Ripper hunger. He _stuffed_ himself, but it only gave him brief respite and in the respite, in the back of his mind all he could think about was what he was going to eat next.

A hand suddenly came into his peripheral, reaching for his plate and Stefan reacted like territorial dog about his food dish as he ate—and grabbed the wrist without even consciously processing it.

"Whoa. Easy man."

Stefan instantly let go. "I'm so sorry! I didn't--"

His server shook his head. "Don't worry, it was my bad. I should know better by now than to encroach on a guy's eating space. I was just back to give you a refill and thought I'd take some of your empty plates."

Stefan pushed his empty glass over, a heat of shame on his face. Garrett refilled his glass and took away 3 of his cleared plates and Stefan ashamedly finished off the other 2.

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? The scene just seemed to flow when I put Matt in instead. Did I make the right choice?


	16. CHAPTER 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the Christmas Chapter—better late than never. So be warned and bear with me. And Enjoy!

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Stefan up-ended the plastic bottle in his hand and was relieved when a single gel tablet tumbled out into his palm; he thought he'd been out when he shook it, it must have stuck to the side. He tossed the empty bottle across the bathroom and into the trash bin by the toilet. He threw tablet back and washed it down with a glass of water. He set the empty glass on the shelf at the back of the sink. He scrubbed a hand over his face and massaged his temple, trying to eat at the ache beneath, staring at his reflection in the almost eerie glow of the motion activated nightlight in the socket by the sink. He no longer had a vampire's night-vision and would rather the soft glow on his sleep-sensitive eyes than the glaringly bright overhead bathroom light when he got up in the middle of the night to relieve his bladder or dose his headache.

Stefan was just going to have to buy _another_ bottle of Extra Strength, Tough on Migraines Gel Tylenol Tablets tomorrow either on his way to, or on his way after school—or today as he reminded himself, it was after all 5:14 a.m. Tuesday morning. He crawled back into bed, burrowing back under the warmth of his covers before the faint light in the bathroom flicked out and put his bedroom into darkness. The 2 hours might have seemed short, but the medicine would do its work and he should be migraine free by the time his alarm went off. At least his nose hadn't bled this time.

There was the Tree Ceremony on Friday and then it was Christmas break, 5 days until the 25th. Stefan had yet to put up any festive decorations around the Boarding House, but with Matt's help and truck, he got a beautiful 10 foot Douglas Fir from the tree farm, set up in its stand on the raised floor of the parlor by the bay of stained-glass windows. Also sans any decorations yet. He had a busy weekend ahead of him.

Bonnie was spending her Christmas with her Grams; her dad choosing a business trip rather than spending the holiday with his only daughter ("Not that it's anything new," the witch told him when they all talked about their plans). This would be Elena and Jeremy's first Christmas since losing their parents after the accident on Wickery Bridge, with just Jenna. Stefan wished he could have saved her parents as well that night, so neither sibling would have to know what it was like to not have their parents with them for Christmas, but it hadn't been a matter of his diminished vampiric abilities due to his animal blood diet, simply manpower. There had been 3 of them, all submerged in water, drowning, and only 1 of him. There was only time enough to save 1 and Stefan had saved Elena. He didn't want to think what his own life would be if he hadn't, how things might have gone so differently if he never had the incredible young woman influence his life—Damon's life.

Stefan, Elena, and Bonnie decided they were going to exchange gifts at the/after the Tree Ceremony, before Christmas break. Spend the holiday with their respective families, then maybe get together with the others for the New Year's Celebration at the park with fireworks and the count down.

This would be his first Christmas with Ric. And his first with Damon in decades. As vampires, they had bad decades and good days. Stefan would try to live as normal as possible with his volatile tendencies, stay in control. Damon would do whatever he did until he'd pop in to reinsert the misery he promised. Or Stefan would find him and they'd be civil in a sensitive capricious balance until emotions teetered one way more than the other and typical things turned resentful and violent with several dead bodies. But the brunette could remember a couple crisp Christmas Greeting shared between them that ended with affable goodbyes.

Things were different this year. Damon was different. He was different. Alaric was with them. Stefan wanted to celebrate this new life between them, at their home. He definitely had a lot of preparation in front of him.

~ T V D ~

Stefan easily went along the edge siding on the Boarding House's roof, placing the long trail of cheery Christmas lights in the strategically placed hooks already present from past holidays with efficiency and agility.

Something he definitely lacked that first night, having almost killed or severely injured himself a handful of times; tripping over his own feet and would have done a header down the basement stairs had Alaric not had his own vampire-speed, or tripping down the staircase and luckily catching himself last minute. After having lightning quick reflexes of a vampire for the past 145 years, it was definitely some adjustment to grow accustomed to a body that could no longer move as fast as his mind and had gained most of his equilibrium back after getting out of the hospital.

Stefan chose to cross this off his to-do list first on the upper-most fact that Damon was out. Because, let's face it, his brother never would have let him look in the direction of the ladder, let alone climb it to the roof to hang holiday lights.

Damon had been protective back when they were both human and growing up, of course he was, he was a big brother after all. But he also let Stefan the freedom to go out and scrape his knees and learn his lesson before coming back again, always there to patch up and comfort and admonish all at once. But was also there to catch him for the really bad things, to take the brunt onto himself.

But Damon had never _babied_ him, not like now. Like changing the locks of his balcony door and refusing to give him a copy of the key, stealing his (albeit) fake driver's licence, secretly loading a tracker app onto his cell phone, and compelling him.

Or maybe this was just the old protective big brother Damon, just amplified by his vampirism. Because the truth was, in the last 145 years, while there had been 'friendly' or even brief 'brotherly' moments between them, it was always underlined with that malice of the past that had brought them to that point in their lives—Katherine Pierce. But that spite was vanished this time around. Katherine both times was his biggest failure as a big brother and he was trying to make up for the past 145 years that followed—and Stefan felt like an ingrate for feeling so suffocated by it.

Without incident, Stefan strung the last length of lights and climbed down the ladder. Exhaling on his cold fingers, he surveyed his work from the ground in the afternoon light. With more lengths of large bulbed outdoor lights, the brunette winded them around the supporting stone pillars of the porch roof and the low stone wall. He hung baubles from the naked, weathered branches of the miniature tree planted in the little stone-ridged island plot center of the large driveway, and hung a large decorative wreath on the front door. It was still too light out to even bother turning them on.

He sheded his jacket and boots at the door and took a brief break in the kitchen with coffee and a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich to top himself off before he went upstairs to his bedroom. He pulled a chair from table, sat, and slipped on Elena's present; of slippers in the design of dog paws with rubber-grip soles. He stuffed his iPod into his hoodie pocket and carefully picket up Salvatore's bowl to bring back downstairs with him, the comet goldfish swimming around and into Bonnie's gifts. When he'd gotten home from the Tree Ceremony yesterday, he'd cleaned out Salvatore's bowl and replaced the original hollow chest and astronaut figurine with hollow wrapped present and Rudolph figurine the witch had gotten him, adding a few snowflake plastic adhesives to the outside of the bowl for decoration that would come off later without a mark.

Stefan placed Salvatore on his space on the lamp table in the library, put his headphones on, and popped a fresh piece of artificial pumpkin spice gum into his mouth as he started opening marked boxes he'd dragged down from the attic.

Gum was a contradicting force for him as he had discovered not too long ago. It made him salivate, it mimicked chewing, and when he swallowed, his brain tricked his body into thinking he was eating when he was just swallowing air. He was like a nicotine addict desperate for the next hit, but was resorting to gnawing of each little piece of laced gum in the hopes of it actually accumulating into one.

He used the large, dark-stained table for the village display, spreading the blanket of fake-snow across the tabletop, which was just a tight-knit cotton coverlet. Then, he started to arrange all the ceramic buildings, before rearranging them; some, like the church and even one that pulled off a charming likeness to the Boarding House, had little light bulbs nestled in them and he found strategically placed hold in the cotton blanket to thread the cords beneath out of sight. After getting the layout just right, all the cords in the power bar, Stefan added the miniature evergreen trees frosted with snow, and the little figurines; the group of carollers and children playing, there were even a few snowmen and a dog. Finally, the brunette turned on the switch and stepped back to survey his work. He smiled, it really was just like a miniature village, a little Mystic Falls! He put garland on the mantel and some strategically placed red velvet bows.

Changing out his gum for a fresh piece, he went to the parlor and gave it similar treatment: garland on the mantel, four stockings (3 regular, and the 4th a tiny pet one that had also been a part of Bonnie's present. He knew when Damon saw it, he was going to have a few choice things to say about his little brother treating his pet _fish_ of all things, like it was a person when he could at least do it with an animal with IQ points if he had to do it at all, but Stefan didn't care. He'd already told his brother Salvatore was a part of the family). He put a skirt on the tree, white with little gold stars on it, to cover the stand and blanket out and set the 2 boxes of tree decorations to the side. He found a train set in 1 of the boxes and after replacing the A batteries in the rail engine, set up the connectable tracts around the edge of the tree skirt and placed the locomotive. He didn't want to overwhelm and invade what could unofficially be called 'Damon's space', so he placed just a few more baubles and left. The sitting room got its own sprinkle of decoration and the kitchen too, where he sprayed fake snow stylishly of the windowpanes above the sink and even the window of the backdoor, which also got it's own wreath. He knelt on the counter over the sink and hung a garland of bells around the row of casement windows, and stuck a bow on the basement door.

Stefan used the opportunity in this particular room to spit out his gum and fill his mouth with a much craved chicken wrap or 3 and down a cup of caffeine to wash away the tiredness in his muscles, warning away the headache. He popped down into the basement for the stepladder and set back to work.

He wove a webbing of white twinkle lights through the stair balusters going up, and the rail that lined the edge of the second floor, and garland with snowberries to line the banisters. He had garland coming out his ears and took advantage; stepping onto the stepladder, he hung garland around the hall arches. Like the little hooks under the eaves trough outside to hang the lights, there were similar ones hidden, virtually invisible unless you got up on a ladder. The garland for the arches in the hall each had a different colour of solid lights woven in; white, green, red, yellow.

Stefan took the stepladder and positioned it under the overhead chandelier in the entrance hall, the bulbs a bright sharpness in his eyes. On paw-clad feet he balanced precariously on the top step, with a long red sleigh belled ribbon attached to a thing of mistletoe. With arms stretched overhead, he was just able to read the fixture, knocking his headphone askew, he started to weave the belled ribbon through the base of the bulb branches as they tinkled. And it was that tight little ball behind his third-eye, previously lulled into a false sense of security with caffeine and willpower, exploded at the soft whimsical tone of the bells.

Stefan flinched, his eyes flashing painfully and he squeezed his eyes shut with an involuntary whimper. He inadvertently yanked the ribbon free, it dropped to the floor with a discordant jangle, the chandelier swinging lightly. He wavered, the ladder under his feet jumping slightly from the floor as he pinched the bridge of his nose as his sinuses burned and a few seconds later he felt the warmth of blood dribbling over the lower half of his face. He blindly reached out with the flutter of dizziness, came up predictably empty, overbalancing on the ladder as the feet on one side came off the floor.

Stefan opened his eyes in horror. Just as the ladder came out from beneath his feet, he pushed off, jumping from the metal to land on his feet, a paw slipper lost and stumbled into the front door, avoiding the painful crash onto the ladder and injury that might have given a trip to the ER. Trying to calm his erratically beating heart with calm breaths, Stefan absently pressed the cuff of his sweater to his nose, the cord of his headphone choking around his neck. He skirted the fallen ladder and quickly made his way to the half-bath down the hall, turning on the light and closing the door.

He untangled the headphone cord from around his neck and grabbed a wad of toilet paper from the roll on the wall, wiping the fresh blood from his nose, before he plugged each nostril with a twisted piece. He put the plug in the sink and turned on the cold tap to let it fill as he quickly stripped his hoodie overhead. The were splotches of blood on the chest and the cuff he'd pressed to his nose was saturated. He scrubbed it under cold water so he didn't cook the blood and stain the material, before he wrung the material out, drained the pink water and hung his sweater on the hook on the back of the door.

He took the soiled toilet paper from his nose and tossed them into the toilet, and grabbed a cloth from the cupboard above the toilet he washed the blood from his face with warm water and soap, then wiped the sink down with a Lysol wipe from the cupboard and flushed it. The bandage taped onto his forearm under his elbow managed to get wet so he just peeled it off and tossed it into the bin under the sink, not bothering to put a new one on; pausing to gently tracing Alaric's fang marks. The dirty-blond had only fed from him twice in the last 2 weeks, including the first really enjoyable go. It wasn't a regular occurrence, couldn't be; he'd be covered in bites and could get anaemia if they weren't careful—and Alaric and Damon refused to give him vampire blood because they didn't trust him not to do something 'stupid' to get himself turned; especially not after Damon found out his compulsion hadn't entirely worked.

Stefan grabbed the gel tablets from the medicine cabinet (he's stocked up his last visit to the drug store and placed a bottle in every bathroom in the Boarding House but Damon's) and drank them down from the tap.

Nosebleeds, like sudden pains in his head were nothing new, nor was the fact that he was hiding them. Neither were a secret, his nose had bleed in front of both Damon and Alaric; and it wouldn't be the first time that he complained of a migraine—but neither seemed to see the correlation like Stefan did, being the affected party, like the _hunger_ he made no attempt to hide. None of these things were in attendance the last time he was human. Of course, that first time around, despite the fact that he now knew he was a doppelganger, his existence was natural; this time, he was a deceased vampire brought back from the dead as human with powerful Bennett magic. Was there anything natural in that sentence? So maybe these were just some little side effects that no one else needed to worry about; he could _handle_ it, he'd endured much worse. And Stefan ignored the dark musing of the demon as she taunted him of deterioration.

Besides, this was his first real Christmas with family in a place he could call Home and for once he wanted to indulge and celebrate.

Clad in his tee shirt, Stefan went back to the front hall, pausing at the stairs to take off the remaining slipper and peel of his socks before he stood the stepladder back upright and picked up the mistletoe. He made a sliding knot with the ribbon and climbed back onto the ladder. It took him only 2 attempts to get the loop over the bulb and onto the brass branch; it was haphazard and definitely off-center, not like what he had wanted to do, but it was late and he wanted to be finished before the vampires returned—and now he was. He folded up the step ladder and stowed it the hall closet along with the empty decoration boxes and bins. He made the journey back to the front hall and turned on the outside light and the switch that would give power to the outside outlet and turn on the lights he'd hung. Stefan bent to retrieve his lost slipper in front of the door as it sung open, whacking him in the head; he cursed. Turning on the porch light must have masked the headlights through the side window.

"Stef?"

"Yeah." He straightened, rubbing his head and opened the door, stepping back. The 2 vampires came in; Alaric setting down a suitcase and duffle, Damon shutting the front door with a kick of his heel, several cooler bags looped on his shoulders.

"The place looks great, Stefan." Alaric said, seeing all the lighted decorations on the stairs and down through the hall.

"Thanks," Stefan smiled, ignoring his brother's narrowed gaze. "Just managed to get it done before you pulled in—I wanted it to be a surprise. Surprise!" he held out his arms, the forgotten slipper in his hand.

Damon's gaze briefly flickered to the scabbed bite on his left forearm before it locked onto the paw. "What the hell is that?"

"Oh," Stefan held it up. "They're slippers, Elena got them for me. They're dog paws." He sat on stair and quickly slipped his socks and slippers back on. "They're really comfortable." He stood.

"Just get a dog already," Damon complained.

"No." Stefan said sharply enough to give Damon pause and arch a brow. Stefan took a breath, shoving down the sudden sharp spike of panic. "I'm not getting a dog. We're not getting a dog. There will be no dog," he finalized. A dog, like a child, was a commitment, a long one—to being human.

"Whatever. I already have you to annoy me, I don't need another animal pissing on the floor and chewing the furniture."

"That's funny. How am I the animal in the scenario? I've been burying your dead bodies for years—literally. "

"Don't be ridiculous... I haven't dropped a body in forever. I've become _boring_." Damon shuddered. "I've essentially become you."

Stefan shook his head. "You only think you're fun because anyone who could give the true story is dead. And to that note... There's something else you should know," he looked between them with a mischievous smirk.

"What?" Damon questioned warily, sharing a quick glance with the teacher.

"Mistletoe!" Stefan announced with a grin, pointing up. "You know what the means."

The 2 vampires leaned their heads back to glance the sprig hanging overhead, then eyed each other.

"In your dreams, Teacher. I'm way out of your league even if I did swing that way."

"You hold a high opinion of yourself," Alaric returned. "I don't find alcoholic, narcissistic, womanizer attractive."

"No. You're clearly into the broody, boring, martyr. You're lucky day, Stefan. It really is a Christmas miracle."

He rolled his eyes and ignored the sarcasm. "If you're not going to kiss him, then allow me." Stefan stepped forward and shouldered his brother out of the way.

"Please do," Alaric said as Stefan grabbed the lapels of his ash-coloured jacket.

"Please don't," Damon countered, his request ignored as Stefan pulled Alaric in the short distance, their lips meeting. Damon jerked the cooler straps from the dirty-blond's shoulder roughly, but it barely disturbed the pair as they continued to make out, and headed for the basement to stow the freshly caught blood bags. "You're supposed to kiss under the mistletoe, not make out!" he called back.

"You had your chance," Alaric smirked against Stefan's lips. Damon's scoff was cut off by basement door closing. They shared a few more kisses before Alaric stepped back and pulled off his jacket, hanging it on a free hook. Stefan put the duffle strap over his shoulder and reached for the suitcase but Alaric's hand beat him to the carry handle. "I'm supernaturally strong, I _can_ carry my own luggage."

Stefan raised a hand and backed off in amusement. "You can carry the suitcase, I don't mind."

Alaric followed his up the stairs, fingers brushing over the garland on the railing. "You really did a great job with the decorations and lights, Stefan, but what about the tree?"

"I wanted the 3 of us to decorate it together. The family is supposed to decorate it together."

"You're right." Alaric nodded, a smile fluttering across his lips. "Got a plan to make Damon participate?"

"Trust me," Stefan said lowly, "I'll have my way." Alaric chuckled at his boyfriend’s devious tone.

At the top of the stairs, Stefan turned right down the hall instead of left. "Stef--" Alaric started with a glance the opposite direction towards Zach's old bedroom, the room he'd been staying in before when he was sleeping over, but Stefan carried on determinedly towards his own bedroom.

Stefan sat his duffle in the reading chair and turned toward the vampire. "Nothing has to happen—I just want to sleep next to you, Ric." To have the vampire for the next 2 weeks, but not have him, would be cruel torture. "Before the whole vampire-swap, I got used to falling asleep with you, sometimes on you and waking up the same. I had 74 years of that loneliness, and then I got you and can hardly remember it. So, can't I just have you for Christmas?"

Alaric stepped forward and cupped his face, expression soft, eyes bright. "You don't have to ask, Stefan, you already have me." He pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth.

Stefan laid his forehead against the man's clavicle. "Being human is supposed to dial everything back, so why the hell does it feel like I have less control than I did with the Ripper waiting just beneath?" he wrapped his arms around Alaric, hands spread flat against the strong plains of his back. "It's like a bomb went of in my control box and everything is scattered and disorganized."

Alaric squeezed the brunette's nape reassuringly. "No one said being human was any easier than being a vampire."

"It sucks more than I remember," he uttered the confession into Alaric's shirt. He gave a heavy exhale and head a little shake. "It's Christmas and Christmas is supposed to be joyful, so I'm going to do something joyful." He declared, raising his head to his shoulder. "Ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"My pleasure," and Stefan's hands caressed southward.

"Mmm." Alaric's breath stuttered a little into Stefan's hair, feeling the slight heat of arousal pool low in his abdomen as the teen groped his ass. It was one of the few ways his undead body formed it's own heat, other than if he consumed warm blood or hot coffee; arousal and hunger. "Christmas really is joyful."

Stefan turned his smile against Alaric's neck. "Your turn, Ric."

"Something joyful..." he hummed, nuzzling against Stefan's head as the teen continued his pleasantly distracting ministrations.

Stefan gave a little shiver as he felt Alaric's breath against his ear before the vampire nibbled at his earlobe, before skimming his lips down the line of his throat. He felt the veins start to engorge under his eyes, but resisted, fought to deafening urge to drop his fangs and blessedly sink them into the hot, pulsing artery beneath his lips. Instead, Alaric picked the perfect sensitive spot and started to suck and lick. Stefan couldn't stop the little squirm, friction between their pelvises, biting his lip with the little whimper, one hand fisting the back of Alaric shirt, the other shoved up into his dirty-blond hair, fisting the strands. Finally, Alaric released his flesh, pressing a kiss to the reddened flesh as the mark slowly turned purple.

Alaric had left marks there in the past and in other various intimate places on the brunette, but they only lasted a minute with his vampire healing, but not this time. The hickey would stick around this time, Alaric's claim, a stand in for his bite, visible. By the time Christmas break was over, it would be healed in time for back to school.

Alaric rose his head and looked into Stefan lust-darkened green eyes. "The Holiday Joy train back on track?"

"And steaming straight ahead," Stefan continued the metaphor. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, Ric's eyes tracking it. "The next best thing after sex," Stefan said. "Food."

"It always comes back around to food," he mused.

"Hunger is the basis for every motive, one way or another." Stefan pressed a kiss to the stubble under his jaw, took the vampire’s hand and interlaced their fingers and pulled him to the kitchen. "But sometime, it really is just about the food."

Alaric heated up a bag of blood in the microwave in a pint glass, and Stefan warmed a can of Chunky stew on the stove and ate it with a few buttered bread rolls. They stopped in the library after to get Salvatore and Alaric discovered the little village display covering the large table. Stefan went over and clicked on the power bar and watched the teachers smile grow as some of the buildings windows light up, the little streetlights, and the Christmas tree at the center in what could be considered town square.

"It almost looks like Mystic Falls," he glanced over at Stefan where he was bent over the display.

Stefan grinned down at him. "That's what I thought. This 1 looks like the Boarding House, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." Alaric nodded and straightened. Stefan left the village alit and picked up the fishbowl. "Wow, you even got Salvatore involved, huh?" The vampire noted the change of scenery inside the bowl, the comet goldfish swishing around.

"Yes," Stefan agreed. "He's part of the family, too." They went to the parlor.

Damon stood in front of the decorated mantle, the fire lit in the place, sipping bourbon, glaring at the stockings, or 1 in particular. "Explain this to me, brother." He pointed with his drinking hand at the little stocking with Salvatore's name written in glitter on it. "You better have a good explanation."

Stefan set the fishbowl in its place on the shelf. "It's Bonnie's gift,"

"Should have known the witch was involved," he sneered. He turned from the fireplace. "At least do it w--"

"No. Dog." Stefan repeated, cutting him off.

Damon just rolled his eyes, refreshed his bourbon and lounged in the chair, side-eyeing them as Alaric and Stefan opened up the boxes and bins and started to decorate the tree. The multicoloured mini-bulb lights went on first (turned on), then the baubles, and the unique little ornaments, bells and ribbon, tinsel. And lastly, the candy canes; Stefan vetoed the popcorn chains with a blunt: "I'll just eat them."

Alaric jerked his head at the empty point at the top of the tree; and back towards Damon, Stefan smothered his smile with a candy cane, the hook hanging out of his mouth as he winked at the bampi and tapped the side of his nose. It was on. Alaric went to pour himself a bourbon and Stefan took a second candy cane.

He paused by Damon, sticking the candy cane under his brother's nose. "It's a specialty flavour—alcoholic." He wagged it; Damon's eyes gave a miniscule narrowing as he eyed his brother for a moment before he took it and copied Stefan's own ministrations. Stefan continued from the parlor and to the hall closet, crunching his candy cane until there was nothing but the hook to suck on. He retrieved the stepladder from the closet and carried it back, setting it up next to the tree and pulled a bubble wrapped figure from the bin. The crystal figure of an Angel, her robe lightly frosted. It was hollow with a battery powered, colour strobe light inside.

Stefan turned the Angel on and set his foot on the first ladder rung--

Damon blurred to him, grabbing his upper arm and stopping his ascent. "You're not climbing on that, in _those._ " He glared down at the paw slippers.

Stefan smirked internally, but kept the mildly annoyed look on his face. "You aren't going to do it and they have rubber grip soles."

"That holds no merit whatsoever." Damon growled. "Just give me the thing—I'll do it." He pulled Stefan back and grabbed the Angel. "The true miracle will be you not breaking your neck doing stupid, meaningless shit like hanging lights." He muttered, climbing the stepladder.

Stefan shared a grin with Alaric and tapped his nose.

On the top support, Damon placed the flashing angel, giving it a little minute adjust to center it. "There. Happy?" he looked down over his shoulder and Stefan took the opportunity to take a picture.

"Very." He quickly slipped his cell phone back into his back pocket.

"Not cool, baby brother." Damon stepped from the top of the step ladder and landed lightly on his feet.

"You keep taking unwarranted pictures of me," he countered.

"What? I gotta document your journey into adulthood." He snapped a piece of his candy cane off with his teeth.

Stefan scowled at the age remark and returned with: "And I yours into humanity."

"You're too sentimental." He finished his candy cane and retook his tumbler.

"It's our first real, official Christmas together in the past 145 years." Stefan pointed out. "You remember that puzzle box that you got me? You got it from some Chinese foreigner passing through town. I was _obsessed_ with it, trying to open it. Each solved move revealed a tiny, beautifully craved figurine. I was _so_ close to finishing it," he whispered, "But father caught me 'fooling around with the damned nonsense' too many times and threw it into the fire. I tried to save it, get it out, before you ran in for the commotion and yanked me away. My hands got all blistered and were in bandages for weeks. I was so upset and crying, not even 'cause my hands got burned but because he destroyed your gift and you got angry and yelled at father. He whipped you for you insolence with that damned cane!" Stefan's jaw tightened in remembered anger. "I wasn't strong enough to stop him," _I'm never strong enough,_ he squeezed his eyes closed for a moment.

"But you tried anyways," Damon said quietly. "And he just turned and hit you. I thought he fucking killed you, you were laying so still. One look at you and he ran off to his office to drink more. Yeah, I remember, Stef. I remember every fucking bit." He threw back his bourbon. "The fucking bastard, shoulda killed him. Should of ended his miserable existence long before that."

"It was a 151 years ago. There was nothing you could do. It wasn't your--"

"I'm your big brother! The whole point of me is to stop stuff like that from happening to you."

"You weren't a killer, Damon." Stefan whispered. "Not until I turned you into one."

"I was a murderer before you turned me into a vampire, Stefan." Damon's gaze fogged with past horrors. "Just wished I'd deserted _before_ instead of after, when it was too late and the damage was already done." He went and poured a fresh tumbler before Stefan's reaching hand could touch down and down his glass. "Was there a point to this lovely jaunt down memory lane?" he snarked, closing himself back off.

Stefan gave a sad sigh. "I want to spend a Christmas that doesn't end in blood, but happiness. I want you to be a part of that, Damon. Please?"

Damon threw himself onto the couch. "How long exactly do I have to put up with living in this Hallmark fantasy of yours?" he gave in.

Stefan grinned. "Just 2 weeks."

"Tw--" Damon said up. "No way. The decorations come down after Christmas."

"They come down after New Years," Stefan bargained. "Even if I'm hungover, by the time the 2nd comes around, it'll be like it never happened."

"Fine."

"But that means you have to have Christmas dinner."

"You're actually a good cook, so I accept the term."

"I also want a picture," Stefan gave his finally stipulation.

"You already got your picture," he waved at the lighted tree behind. "So no."

Stefan frowned. "I gave you 4 wishes. The mandatory 3, then an extra for Christmas spirit. And I'm using them all right now, so, come on."

"You're really pushing it, little brother." Damon groaned at the puppy-dog eyes. "Fine." He grouched, holding up a finger. "Last wish."

"I want you to wear a Santa hat for the picture," Stefan told him seriously. Alaric buried his grin behind his glass.

Damon glared. "Really? That's what you're going to use you're last wish on? You want me to wear a stupid Santa hat for your picture." He scoffed and shook his head. "It's times like these that I wonder how we're related. Alright," he sighed. "You can have your picture and damned hat, _but_ ," Damon added his own condition, "No posting it or sharing it."

"For my own viewing pleasure," Stefan promised, hand over his beating heart, unable to stop smiling. If he had to be human to have his brother like this, then there really wasn't any other options he needed to consider.

~ T V D ~

It was the eve of Christmas Eve and Stefan was still in the kitchen, he had 1 last item on his to-do list and then he could call it a night—the eggnog. He'd been in here all afternoon, a baking express line: gingerbread cookies, macaroons, tarts, all double batches to compensate for his unending hunger. He might have already eaten a quarter for taste-testing purposes and despite having banned the vampires from the kitchen, there really was little he could do against their vamp-speed-snatch attacks. He planned on giving a compilation of everything to Bonnie and Elena, but he didn't think he could resist the temptation until he saw them next so he was probably just going to make fresh batches for them. But he was happy, glad to do it.

He measured out most of the ingredients first, the counter island covered in measuring cups and spoons and prep bowls. He combined the milk, vanilla, and cinnamon into a saucepan on low and while he waited for it to come to a boil, he combined the 12 egg yolks he'd already separated with the sugar and whisked them, bowl held at his waist until fluffy (he already had plans for the whites). He took the boiled mixture from the stove and carefully mixed it in with the eggs then poured it back into the saucepan on medium heat, stirring constantly until it thickened but didn’t boil. He strained the cloves out and while he left it to cool, he fried and ate the leftover egg whites and tidied up. When the liquid was cooled, he mixed in the bourbon, cream, vanilla and finished it off with nutmeg.

The eggnog needed to refrigerate overnight so Stefan poured it into a sealable jug to store in the fridge and take up less space in the crowded interior—but not before he poured himself a glass. He took a sip and swished it around before swallowing, then drained the rest of the glass. It was good, but would be even better once it set. Stefan smacked his lips and ran his tongue along his teeth as he filled the sink to wash the dishes.

He grimaced in annoyance as he felt the ache in his head start to bloom, but it felt a little different than usual, lower between and even under his eyes. He supposed he should have seen this coming, it always hit at 1 point or another. He cleared his throat as he continued washing, sorting out his schedule for Christmas day in his head: He'd take the turkey out from the freezer downstairs when he was finished (it would take tomorrow to thaw), then he'd have to wake up early on Christmas to prepare and put it into the oven. And during the course of the cook time, he'd prep and cook the rest of Christmas dinner. He had grand plans of doing most of it from scratch: the stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy etc. It was more time consuming, but it's definitely worth by the end when he was _eating_ it—his mouth filled with saliva just imagining it.

Zach had updated the kitchen in a remodel since he was last in Mystic Falls in 1994 and Stefan loved it. The six burner gas stove, the stacked ovens... definite needed features for cooking a turkey dinner, even if it was just for 3.

The sudden, overwhelming urge to cough took Stefan and he cursed as he sliced his hand on a knife in the water. He ran it under the tap even as he hacked into the crook of his arm. Finally, the cough attack eased, but the formed lump in his throat didn't. He grabbed paper towel from the stand and pressed it to his bleeding, chewing his itchy lips. The warning bells ringing in the back of his head that something wasn't right, got to full-blown klaxons as all he could seem to do was take wheezing gasps through his closing throat.

"Ric!" he croaked, hurrying from the kitchen. "Damon!" injured hand forgotten, the bloodied paper towel fell to the floor as he put his hand out against the panelled wall for support, the other to his chest as he felt sharp pains every time he managed to drag in a breath.

Damon and Alaric blurred to him simultaneously, for as much the scent of blood as the quality of his voice.

"What did you do?!" Damon demanded.

"Your hand--" the bampi was able to override the immediate vamp response with concern; Stefan wouldn't be reacting like this if it was just a cut. He didn't need enhanced vamp-hearing to notice how off his breathing was.

The brunette shook his head rapidly. "Can't... breathe!" Stefan managed. "Anaphylactic shock--!" that was the conclusion he managed to come up with between all the fear of suffocation, it was the only thing he could equate the symptoms even if it didn't make sense. There was the sudden sharp (and familiar) pain in his head, and the sinus headache was flushed away with burning as his nose started to bleed, and he groaned as that same light-headedness from the stepladder hit him, but he couldn't tell if it was that or the symptom of reaction as he was hit with a wave of nausea.

Alaric quickly grabbed him before he could fall. "An allergic reaction--?"

"You don't have an allergy!" Damon grabbed a fistful of Stefan's shirt, his worry and confusion making it sound like an accusation.

"Apparently he does!" Alaric shouted. "We need an EpiPen."

"We don't have one!"

"He won't make it to the hospital--" not with the turn his breathing had taken.

"Fuck." There was only 1 thing for it—Damon bit into his wrist with fangs. "Open wide, little brother." He shoved his bloodied wrist against Stefan's gaping mouth. The fight instinct took over the teen briefly as his only (very poorly) viable breathing option was blocked by Damon's wrist, his nose clogged with blood; Stefan's green eyes flicked and survival kicked it and he grabbed the vampire's arm.

Damon grimaced as he felt Stefan teeth latch and he started to suck and drink fiercely, his fingers white-knuckled as Alaric seemed to be the only thing holding him up. They sunk to the floor. The constant suction and nip of sharp baby-fangs kept the wound open and flowing. Damon watched him carefully, a hand placed flat on Stefan's chest, paying attention to the speed of his heart, his breathing, the complexion of his skin. He let Stefan feed until the timber of his breath changed from wheezing breaths through a straw to just your regular out of breath panting; his eyes lost the glazed, desperate, panicked look.

"Alright." Damon tried to pull his wrist away and Stefan just responded instinctively, his eyes flashing momentarily, a territorial growl rumbling from his throat, his fingernails digging into skin, pseudo fangs clamping down. "Enough, _Ripper!_ " Damon plugged the brunette's nose, making him choose: feed or breathe.

Stefan held on for a stubborn moment before he was forced to tear away, gasping for breath as he slumped back against Alaric's chest.

"You good?" Alaric questioned.

Damon rubbed his healed wrist irritably. "Some things never change." He eyed Stefan, lounging back against the other vampire. There was almost a drunk brightness to his eyes as he licked his chops, so reminiscent of his vampire days, not wont to waste a drop. Damon checked him over: heart rate and breathing back to normal; his hand was left bloody but the slice was healed, same with the scabbed feeding bite on his forearm. Damon pushed his chin, tilting his head to the side, even Alaric's hickey was all healed. Stefan was like a lion, docile after a heavy meal, letting the cubs play on him like a jungle gym, Alaric stroking his forehead.

Damon dropped back and slumped back against the wall with a sigh, forearms hanging on raised knees, staring at his little brother and feeling a little anaemic with the amount of blood Stefan had taken. Bonnie claimed that the brunette was just like a human now—(again)—but the word 'just' didn't belong in the same sentence as bringing his baby brother back from the true death. Like, despite how ill Stefan had become after his return from death and to human life, he was averse to just simply giving him vampire blood to heal him because it couldn't be just as simple as that. As Bonnie stated constantly: nature balances itself out. But it was also because (like now) he couldn't trust Stefan 100% not to just go a kill himself once he got any vampire blood into his system, not with the helpless desperation, obsession he had shown to wanting to turn back into one, so Damon (and Alaric) made a pact to allow the teen none unless under desperate circumstance. Well, Stefan got it and Damon was no letting the teen out of his sight for the next 42 hours at least, which would be easy with Christmas just around the corner—but if something were to happen, he'd rather have an undead brother than a just plain dead one.

Stefan shifted, turning and snuggling against his boyfriend's chest. "Stef. Hey," Alaric stroked his cheek.

"Mmm," Stefan tilted his head back and cracked his green eyes. "Hey," he murmured. His right arm reached up, elbow bent and cupped the vampire's neck, pulling him down as his neck stretched and kissed him. He gasped into the vampire's mouth, feeling a surge of electricity; he turned fully into the teacher and Alaric fell back to floor with his sudden weight. Stefan grabbed a fistful of his dirty-blond strands and kissed him desperately—hungrily. Felt the same kind of heat seed and burgeon in his lower belly as he rubbed his stirring groin against the vampire taut abdomen. Stefan nipped his lip, drawing blood.

"Jeez, Stefan. Easy." Alaric grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back. He was a millisecond from vamping-out.

Stefan sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, cleaning it of the bead of Alaric's blood with gratification.

"If 1 of you was a girl and 1 of you wasn't my brother, I'd be all for this live porn show, but neither of those is true, so let's keep it family friendly, huh? I don't need to be scarred for the rest of my life, since it holds the possibility of eternal." Damon chimed into the conversation. "If you're ready to have sex in the hall, that must mean you're feeling better—you know, from the whole 'almost dying' thing."

"Yes. I remember now, thank you." Stefan deadpanned. He shifted from the prone bampi and climbed to his feet, Alaric following. "Aw, shit." he realized.

Damon blurred to his feet. "What?" he demanded, eyeing him like he was about to implode.

"I have to take the turkey out." He started for the kitchen.

Damon grabbed his arm and yanked him back. "The damn turkey can wait a minute."

"Stefan, are you okay?" Alaric asked him seriously. "How do you feel?"

"Great. Fantastic." He didn't even have to think about it. "Best I've felt in my life."

Damon continued to scrutinize him. "And this whole allergic reaction?"

"It must have been the eggnog," Stefan explained. "Well... the nutmeg in the eggnog..."

"You've never had eggnog?" Alaric asked. "You didn't have any at the Tree Ceremony?"

Stefan shook his head; he had consumed his weight in hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows), gingerbread men _and_ their houses, and fruitcake. "Didn't touch the eggnog, i.e. nutmeg. Not as a human, then or now, or at least until I taste-tested the batch I just made." Damon finally released his arm with a growl and stormed into the kitchen, the couple quickly following after. "What are you doing?" he wondered as the dark-haired vampire nearly ripped the stainless steel refrigerator door off the hinges.

"What does it look like?" Damon grabbed the sealed jug from the fridge and went over to the sink and dumped all 2 litres into the sink, washing it down the drain.

"That took me over an hour to make," Stefan protested.

"And it took hardly a fraction of that to almost kill you!" Damon snapped back. He turned from the sink and went over to the stove, pulling the rotating spice rack forward.

"No! What do you think you're doing?" Stefan grabbed Damon's arm, trying to pull him away. The eggnog, he understood, fine, but he wouldn't stand for his brother messing with his spices.

Damon utterly ignored him and started to pull jars from their slots: nutmeg, mace, pumpkin pie spice, allspice, garam masala. Mace was made from the outer membrane of the nutmeg, and the others were all blends of spices that contained nutmeg. Stefan wasn't the only cook in the family. Damon went to the metal trashcan and stepped on the peddle, the lid flipping open.

"Not the allspice!" Stefan managed to snatch it from his crowded hands before Damon tossed the whole lot, clutching the bottle to his chest. Allspice was made from ground dried berries that _tasted_ like a blend of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves but didn't contain the tropical seed.

Damon followed the spices with the empty jug before he slammed the lid. He looked over at his little brother and his mildly bloodied state. "So much for your bloodless Christmas."

"This changes nothing," Stefan told him firmly and turned on his heel, going into the basement to get the turkey. This was just a mild hiccup in his Christmas plans, but nothing that couldn't be smoothed over with a little effort. Nobody died, the blood was superficial; he would stay his course: leave the turkey out to thaw tonight and Christmas Eve, he'd make a fresh batch of eggnog tomorrow with a nutmeg substitute, same with the pumpkin pies.

...

Alaric was sat on the closed toilet in boxers and a tee as the sliding door opened and Stefan stepped from the shower.

"You could have joined me," Stefan murmured as he dried himself under his penetrating blue gaze.

But the teacher shook his head. "Better safe than sorry."

Stefan tucked the towel around his hips. "I can never be sorry when it comes to you." He carded his fingers through Alaric's hair. "You don't have to worry, everything's fine." Hand's on his shoulders for balance, Stefan straddled Alaric's thighs and sat in his lap, his towel riding up when the vampire wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer and securer. "I'm fine."

"You almost weren't." Alaric returned.

"But I am now," he assured, thumb stroking the stubble on the teacher's cheek.

"There shouldn't be a tally for how many times I keep almost losing you."

"You haven't lost me." Stefan pushed warm fingers under Alaric tee collar and blanketed the base of his neck; who closed his eyes with a soft sigh at the touch. "I wasn't lying this time when I said I felt fantastic, the first time since I've been human, I feel... whole." He realized; like all the cracks inside that seemed like they'd shatter him at a moments notice, mended, if temporarily.

Alaric opened his eyes. "This time?"

"Ah," Stefan hadn't meant to let that little tidbit slip out. "It's just easier not to say anything sometimes."

Alaric cupped his cheek. "Easier on who?

"Sometimes it's just _better_ to not say something, Ric." He amended.

"Stef--" Alaric started to shake his head.

"Ric, listen." Stefan cupped his head and laid it against his bare chest, "This—I will keep this beating for as long as you want, for as long as I am able."

Alaric lifted his head to look at him. "Why is you staying like this contingent on _my_ wanting of it?" he questioned in bewilderment. "Why can't you be human from _your_ wanting?"

"I want to be with you."

"You _are_ with me." Stefan shook his head and squeezed his eyes closed, fingers stretching and twisting in Alaric's tee collar. "Sometimes it's better _to_ say something," Alaric murmured. "How am I supposed to know what's going on if you won't tell me what's going on in your head?"

"I... can't--" _because the longer I'm like this the more you're going to want me to do human-things with my new human-life. Human-things that can only be done with other humans, not vampires_ — _not you._

"What happened to you is a _gift_ , Stefan." Alaric caressed his wet hair.

Stefan scoffed at that, opening his eyes and said bitterly, "And you a curse." _Me, a curse. I've cursed us both._

"Maybe not." Alaric confessed after a moment.

"What do you mean?" Stefan looked at him in confusion. "How could you say that? After everything... it's no gift."

"Listen to me, Stefan." He held his face, made sure he had his gaze. "I'm frozen in time and you're finally fluid again. Live, like you haven't been able to. I'll still be here, I'm not going anywhere. Live, experience. We'll still be together, we'll still have eternity. The only difference from before and now is that you have _time_." Alaric gave him a soft kiss. "Stef?"

Stefan nodded slowly, gaze dropped and untwisted his hands from the collar. "Okay," he croaked after a moment. He cleared his throat and licked his lips. "Christmas Joy?" Stefan requested quietly, lifting his green gaze..

"Something joyful?" he teased, mock thoughtful. Alaric's hands brushed up Stefan's thighs, pushing beneath the towel and cupped the bottom curve of his buttocks—and stood in a fluid motion, Stefan's legs wrap around him, carrying the 180 lb. teen like he weighed a fraction of that.

"Oh. Yes. I like this. This has great potential," Stefan surmised, his arms looped loosely around the vampire's neck. "Where is it headed? What's the end game?"

Alaric smirked. "Bed." He left the en suite.

"What else?" Stefan murmured, eyes hooded, voice husky as he flexed, pressing his stirring eagerness against him. Alaric laid him on the bed and Stefan may have let the towel slip free, leaving him naked but for his rose tattoo.

"Hm," Alaric's blue gaze darkened as he cruised his boyfriend, laid on display, his half-hard cock begging for his touch so it could grow to full potential.

Stefan stretched his arms up over his head, his fingers playing the with damp strands; he rose his knee and let his leg fall open, revealing himself to the vampire. Alaric's boxes tented visibly as he stood at the foot of the bed and gulped. He knelt on the bed and started to crawl up the brunette, nuzzling with stubble, mouthing with butterfly touches. His veins were already tingling under his eyes in hunger, both bloodied and sexual and his fangs dropped sharply as he nuzzled passed Stefan's femoral.

"Ric," he whispered, biting his lower lip, his skin flushed prettily in arousal and anticipation. His cock was already fully erect by the time Alaric nosed tantalizingly through the hair it his base, a shiver going through his body. Stefan resisted the urge to thrust up his hips and instead held still, almost shaking with the effort. This was the closest he'd had the vampire and he didn't want to scare him back into his senses by moving too fast beyond his comfort and control. "What else?" the question was breathless, barely there. He was so hard, one wrong breath from the vampire at this proximity and he was going to lose the precious thread of control that he had.

Alaric pulled up and pressed a kiss to his hip instead. "Sleep,"

"I can't go to sleep," he reasoned. "My hair's still damp; I'll get permanent bed head and my hair will be a nightmare tomorrow."

"But your bed head is adorable." Alaric chuckled and drew himself the rest of the way so they were face to face, hovering and not touching. The material of his shirt dragged tortuously over Stefan's leaking, sensitive head and the orgasm shot through him embarrassingly, his sight whiting out briefly.

"Uuhn!" he arched, his cum splattering warm across the hem of Alaric's tee and the hair of his lower belly. He hardly noticed Alaric shuddering over him as he released, red sclera glued to his flushed, sweat-shinny face as Stefan slumped back onto the bed beneath with a slow moan.

Stefan's green eyes fluttered and focused at the face hovering above him own as he returned to this plain of consciousness, the blush of post coitus making him look debauched as he licked his lips. He reached up, finger's brushing his pale cheek. "I missed your face," Stefan realized him in disappointment.

"I didn't," Alaric whispered and crushed his lips against Stefan‘s. Stefan reached up and tried to pull Alaric down against him but the vampire refused to budge. "I'm covered in all the cum," he explained, humour at the corner of his mouth. He pressed a chaste kiss to Stefan's smiling lips before carefully rolling off him onto his back on his side of the bed and carefully pulled his soiled shirt overhead. Stefan watched as he wiped the ejaculate from his hairy stomach with it and flung the ball of cloth across the room where it landed on the closed laundry hamper. He rose his hips and peeled his wet boxers off and did much the same with them as his shirt.

"Now sleep," Stefan deduced when Alaric pulled the blanket over them and switched out the lamp. But there was no protest from him; that might not have gone exactly as he had desperately wished, but that didn't matter, the end result was the same—he got Ric. "Christmas Joy is the best."

"I think you're right," Alaric agreed, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

...

Alaric lay on his side, torso propped up on an elbow and watched through the dark with his supernaturally enhanced gaze as Stefan's eyes darted almost frenetically beneath his closed eyelids as he slept. He wondered if it was a nightmare or if the brunette was simply have an active dream, he wanted to reach out, touch, comfort anyway but remembered the last time he did that he accidentally viewed Stefan's dream. But when Stefan’s inhale got stuck briefly and his lips trembled, he responded automatically, his hand laid on the slumbering teen's jumping abdominal muscle. The following exhale was smooth and Stefan rolled onto his side, snuggling against the teacher. Alaric lowered himself, arms wrapped around Stefan, he rolled back onto his back, letting the brunette snuggle half on him, mouth and nose pressed against side of the vampire's neck.

Stefan settled deeply and Alaric pulled the blanket back up around his naked shoulders, staring up into the overhead rafters as he focused on the sound of the human's deep, smooth breaths and tried to forget about the wheezing, struggling gasps of earlier.

...

Stefan kissed Alaric awake the next morning. The vampire instantly responded, half-awake. His arms wrapped around the naked teen holding him close as he released his lips and kissed along his jaw, down his neck. The veins engorged under his eyes, flooding them under closed lids, tracing the flowing artery beneath his lips as his fangs descended and pierced the delicate skin.

Stefan hadn't not expected the teacher to just go for it, he was sure that Alaric would refuse to drink from him again for a while after what happened last night, but the brunette didn't even think the vampire was _consciously_ aware of what he was doing, stuck in that sweet spot of asleep and awakening. But Stefan didn't fight him, was still and relaxed beneath the vampire's fangs.

It was a few swallows in, awakened by the warm fresh blood, better than a straight shot of caffeine in his undead state now, that Alaric realized with a startled sense of horror just exactly where he was and what he was doing. Like waking up to realize that reality was the dream and the dream was the real reality. Alaric extracted himself, quickly but carefully as to not knick or pierce the artery further.

Alaric sat up and quickly wiped the blood from his mouth. "Oh, God, Stefan. I didn't mean to!"

Stefan collected the line of blood crawling down his chest and stuck the bloodied finger into Alaric's mouth, cutting off his blabbering, unfounded, needless apologies. Alaric stilled under the pressure of the finger on his tongue as Stefan lay patiently and the dirty-blond watched as his bite so slowly healed and disappeared with the vampire blood still in the teen's system from last night, leaving only smears of blood on his tan skin.

 _Too slow_ , Stefan thought as he sat up and touched the sensitively healed area, for the amount of blood he'd taken from Damon. He didn't think Alaric noticed, busy with his own self-recrimination.

"I wasn't even awake," he stressed.

Stefan reached out and stroke his stubbled cheek, drawing his focus back. "So, how long did you keep yourself awake and watch me sleep?"

The corners of his lips tightened. "You almost died."

"You did die," he returned a little coldly.

Alaric's eyes widened. "Stefan--"

Stefan raised onto his knees, cupped his head and pressed a kiss firmly to his forehead. "You can be a be my sous-chef," he compromised. "You can keep an eye on me _and_ be useful. Now go shower." He crawled out of bed. While Alaric jumped into the shower, Stefan fed Salvatore. He was just going to wash the blood away with a cloth at the sink, but catching sight of his massive bed head in the mirror, he decided to just save time. Alaric blinked at him as he opened the glass door and stepped in. "Let me have that for a second?" he stepped around the vampire, sticking his head under the spray and Alaric took the opportunity to wash the blood away and kiss him under the spray.

It was in the kitchen, Alaric pouring 2 mugs with freshly brewed coffee behind him as he stared into the inside of the fridge, reaching for the carton of creamer, that Stefan came to a realization—he wasn't **_hungry._** They slept until 11. Usually, long before that he'd have been driven from much needed sleep to the even more need to _eat_ anything to stop the **hunger**. The space in time between his last meal and now was inconceivable. While yes, 12 egg whites was overboard for anyone normal, it was established that he wasn't, he should be feeling the hunger, biting and desperate right about long-before-now. As he looked at all the ready-to-consume food staring at him from the crowded shelves—he didn't feel that frantic internal gnawing famishment that he needed to cram full without fail. Could--

"Stef?" Alaric's voice yanked him to the present. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Stefan gave his head an internal shake. "Yeah." He grabbed the creamer and shut the door. Alaric drank his coffee black with 2 sugar. Stefan used to drink his purely black, he liked the bitterness of the coffee bean, unhindered by sugar, and as hot as possible for his undead, cold body; but he discovered drinking black as a human was not ideal if he wanted to keep his taste buds, so he was forced to adjust to circumstance and add creamer. He took a sip of his coffee, a contemplative line on his forehead as the sip fluttered in his stomach before it settled. He set his cup down, turned to Alaric, and got to work.

They made the eggnog first, though Stefan cut the recipe in half and left the mixture to cool. He set Alaric to the task of peeling apples as he made the crust for several different pies from scratch. He had Alaric mix the pumpkin pie filling with allspice, ginger, and cinnamon as Stefan sorted out the apple pie and carefully laid the cross-lattice to cover the top of the pie.

Lastly, for the pecan pie, Alaric chopped up the pecans as Stefan measured out the other ingredients, not even thinking twice about it as he took a nut and tossed it back, crunching it between his back molars. The sudden acrid, rotten taste when he swallowed took him completely by surprise and he gagged, coughing, and spilt the sugar he was pouring.

"What is it?" Alaric immediately stopped what he was doing and was at his side in an instant.

"Just a bad pecan," he cleared his throat, hand to his chest. Alaric went to the fridge and poured him a glass of filtered water. "Thanks." Stefan rinsed his mouth and spat in the sink. He managed a few swallows before he was forced to stop.

"Alright?" Alaric attempted not to crowd and cleaned up the spilled sugar.

"Yeah." Stefan set the half-full glass by the sink and got out a saucepan for the stove. He mixed in the sugar, corn syrup, butter, water, and cornstarch and waited to bring it to a boil. Alaric beat the eggs in another bowl until they were frothy and when the mixture came to a boil, Stefan gradually beat the cook syrup mixture into the eggs then added the remaining measured salt, vanilla, and chopped pecans. He poured the filling into the last remaining empty pie crust and put the pies in the preheated ovens.

Alaric grabbed a blood bag from fridge freezer, the meal to the hours ago appetizer of Stefan's neck. Stefan watched from the corner of his eye as the vampire didn't bother with a glass or to warm it and simply pulled the tab from the attached tube to the bag and drank from it like a straw, his veins crawling under his eyes. Stefan unconsciously licked his lips as he watched, before he jerked himself back to present and finished mixing the cooling eggnog that had been set aside, bringing out the allspice again as a substitute for nutmeg. He cautiously tried a tablespoon of the finished drink, and he had to swallow passed the sudden precursor of excess saliva and the lump in his throat—he ducked his head in the fridge as cover, shifting around things on the shelf to make room for the eggnog jug despite the hole from last night where Damon had taken the previous jug from.

As they waited for the timer on the pies to go off, they did dishes; Alaric washing, Stefan drying distractedly. His mind elsewhere, there was no filter to his words.

"Noticed Damon's not home," Alaric commented.

"That appears to be the case,"

"I figured he'd want to keep an eagle-eye on you after last night."

"Maybe he thinks you've got it covered,"

"Even if that's true, thought this was something he'd want to do himself."

"Maybe he has more important things to do,"

"You're important."

"I'm not the center of the universe, Ric. There are a lot of things more important in the world than me."

"Not to him." Alaric turned to him. "Not to me."

"Maybe I shouldn't be." Stefan's voice was hollow as he stared blankly down at the glass mixing bowl in his hands; It made Alaric shiver, and was frozen, unable to move, only listen as the brunette continued. "We are meant to suffer and die, there might be a bit of life lived in there but our sole purpose in this universe is to die." All Alaric could see was the blankness of him, the lack of sensation in his voice and he was reminded of staring into his blank, dead eyes. "I'm dying right now and you don't even know it."

"Hey!" Alaric grabbed his shoulders roughly, unable to stand the words, the tone, unable to detect anything that was _Stefan_ in the body before him. "Stefan! Come back, c'mon!" Stefan gave a sharp exhale, broken from the trance, the bowl slipping from suddenly nerveless fingers and smashed on the floor; he flinched. Alaric's fingers tightened further for an instant, relieved to see Stefan back and present in his forest green eyes.

Stefan stared down between them. "I broke the bowl."

"Hey," Alaric said, softer this time. He put a hand on Stefan's cheek and raised his face, looking into his eyes. "It's alright, you're okay." With vampire strength, he manoeuvred the wavering teen from the broken glass and pushed him onto a stool. He carefully pulled the paw slippers from his feet and shook out the shards of glass caught in the material, but was wary to put them back on for hidden shards.

The timers on the ovens started to beep and Stefan immediately responded, starting to stand when Alaric quickly put a hand to his chest, pushing him back. "There's glass all over the floor! Just sit. I'll get them." He waited until he got a nod before he turned to the ovens, turning them off before he grabbed the oven mitts. He took the pies out and placed them on the cooling rack on the wall counter.

Alaric poured the teen a glass of orange juice, setting it in front of him and quickly put 2 pieces of bread in the toaster. He fed from Stefan that morning when he knew he shouldn't have after what happened to the brunette the night before and he didn't recall Stefan eating anything since they awoke at noon—usually that was the first thing on his mind when waking. "Drink," he issued and went around the clear side of the island to get the broom from the rack on the inside of the pantry door.

Stefan swallowed, his hand wrapped around the glass for a moment before he slowly lifted it to his lips. It was fine. It was just OJ, he'd had some the day before yesterday. It tasted acidic and sour in his mouth anyways and he couldn't stop the choke.

"Stef?" Alaric looked up from where he was crouched with the dustpan.

Stefan waved a hand and rose the glass again. The broom and dustpan dropped to the floor in a crash as Alaric blurred to the brunette and grabbed the glass from Stefan before he could drink further, juice sloshing out of the glass onto his hand and island counter.

"Are you trying to make yourself sick?" Alaric questioned in confusion.

"It's fine, I can drink it." Stefan protested, reaching for the glass but Alaric pulled it from reach and simply put it, cup and all, into the dishwater. "Ric--"

Alaric turned back to him, ignoring the little shards of missed glass poking through the material of his socks and into his sensitive soles. "I shouldn't have fed from you, not after--"

"That has nothing to do with it." Stefan cut him off with an upset frown and furrow to his thick brows.

"Then what?"

"I'm fine. Nothing's wrong."

"Are you getting sick again?" the vampire pressed. "Stefan?" Alaric stepped forward and squeezed his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts.

"I'm not." He could tell Alaric didn't quite believe him.

Stefan didn't think he was sick, at least he didn't feel sick, not now. But every time he tried to drink or eat, just the taste of it in his mouth was terrible, let alone in his stomach made it turn. With the exception of the first time of him eating food as human the second time around (which had been a struggle of his conscious over the wanting of his body) there wasn't anything that he hadn't eaten and nothing his body had rejected and the only thing that had changed in all that time was drinking Damon's blood last night.

Vampire blood healed his state of anaphylactic shock, the cut on his palm, Alaric's feeding marks, and even the bite from this morning if at a much slower rate... could it possibly have healed the unnatural hunger that resided within him? Or was it simply vampire blood that had been his true craving all this time?

"You said you were dying, Stefan!" Alaric blurted in frustration. Stefan froze at that and Alaric was horrified to realize a moment later of observation that it wasn't shock that he had said such a thing, but instead took an aura of red-handedness. "Stefan?" he asked weakly, desperately fearing his boyfriend's next response. "That's not true, right? You're not--" he couldn't even finish it as Stefan's hollow voice rang through his head: ' _I'm dying and you don't even know it'._

Thoughts of deterioration hounded Stefan once more in Katherine’s giggled whispers. Bonnie said he was fine. She'd told him that she'd examined his 'aura' when he was sick and it wasn't anything magical that had him ailing. But that was almost a month ago. His hunger wasn't what it was a month ago. He didn't get headaches or nosebleeds a month ago. Clearly he was-- Clearly he had been... deteriorating since. But maybe Damon's blood had helped, or maybe vampire blood had accelerated it like cancer and this was the flash of vitality before the dying breath.

The toast popped, making them both jump.

"Well, isn't life just a very slow journey towards death?" Stefan replied philosophically, avoiding the question.

"Was that what you meant?" he asked tartly.

"How could I explain to you what I meant when I don't even know what I said?"

"You really mean that?"

"Why would I lie about something like that?!"

"I don't know, Stef. Maybe this is another of your _'it's better not to say anything'_ moments." He did harsh quotation marks as his anger boiled. "Clearly it's something you don't find fit to tell me. I used to think that I knew you enough to discern when your 'fine's' really meant you were fine or you were just trying to comfort someone else—obviously I've been deluding myself this entire time! You're hiding something--"

"No!" Stefan bolted up from the stool, his arm reaching out. "That's not--!" his hand touched Alaric's chest just as there was a distinct crunch underfoot and he sucked in a sharp gasp, stilling for an instant before he jerked himself back with a small cry, hopping on his left foot. "Ah!"

"Dammit, Stefan. I warned you about the glass!" Alaric barked angrily, even as he grasped his elbow to steady him.

"I forgot!" Stefan barked back over his shoulder, leaning forward against the counter, his right knee bent and socked foot held aloft behind him.

Alaric crouched down behind him, cupping his ankle to steady it and carefully pulled down Stefan's sock from under his pant leg, the brunette hissing as he peeled it carefully from his injured foot.

"How bad is it?" Stefan questioned.

Alaric felt his hunger emerge from the foreground just at scent of blood, let alone what the sight enticed. There was a curved piece pierced into Stefan's heel and he carefully extracted it, accompanied by a quiet curse of the patient. He felt his fangs try to poke from his gums as he watched a trail of fresh blood well from the small wound and wend down the ball of Stefan's foot and drip from his toes on his jean-clad thigh bent beneath.

"Pass me paper towel," Alaric swallowed, cupping his hand beneath his foot so the blood dripped into his palm instead of staining his pants. He swore he wasn't going to drink it, licking Stefan’s nosebleed from his face like a true animal was depraved enough.

He stretched across the counter, left foot lifting from the floor, his injured one almost give the vampire a bloodied footprint to the face. "Why the hell did I think I could somehow make the perfect Christmas?" Stefan whispered, his voice thick as he handed down the roll from the stand. He remembered his nosebleed while hanging the mistletoe the first time, the header he'd very nearly done from the stepladder, "It was marked with blood from start, I should have taken it as a omen and quit while I was ahead. I'm 3 for-- hah!" he gave a sharp exhale as Alaric pressed paper towel to the laceration.

"You couldn't have known about the nutmeg, Stefan." Alaric mumbled a little distractedly. "We weren't prepared; vampire blood was the only option. This should be healed in a minute."

Stefan hung his head for a moment with a sigh. "I don't think that's going to happen, Ric."

"Of course it will. It hasn't even been 24 hours since you drank Damon's blood—and you drank a lot of it, Stefan. It'll heal your wound just like my bite from this morning."

Stefan said nothing. Of course, Alaric only having been a bampi for under a month, he didn't have the experience of being injured and healing himself, let alone feeding his blood to a human to heal them so he couldn't understand exactly how fast it actually happened. Even Stefan’s vampire blood, its Power weak and diluted from animal blood healed faster than the bite from this morning. No, compulsion didn't even work on him properly, so why would he have thought that vampire blood would work on his as it did other regular humans?

Alaric lifted the stained paper towel from Stefan's heel and stared in blank confusion at the continued presence of the wound. "It's still there. It should have healed, right?"

Stefan straightened and twisted his torso. "Help me?"

Alaric looked up at him for a moment before he stood, and straightened under his aloft arm, his own wrapping around Stefan back. "What aren't you saying?" Alaric demanded.

"There's a stocked medical kit in Zach's closet," he explained.

"It'll be faster if I just carry you." At least the dirty blond waited until he grimaced in humiliated acceptance before picking him up. Alaric set him down in the bathroom and went into the closet to get the kit. The other First Aid kits around the Boarding House were your typical ones filled with bandages, tape, disinfectant, numbing cream, latex gloves, and butterfly strips. But the kit in the closet was like a paramedic's bag.

Stefan sat on the edge of the bathtub, his right ankle crossed on his left knee, examining the wound when Alaric came returned with the kit. As he carefully cleaned around the wound with a disinfectant wipe, he had Alaric fill the hollow pointed syringe with the saline and flushed out the laceration with a hiss through clenched teeth; it seemed to be as deep as it was wide. As he patted it dry, he thought on his next course; he needed to hold it closed, but simple steri-strips alone wouldn’t hold it closed, not with movement, but he didn't want to have to put a stitch in there... so he settled on the skin glue. He chewed the inside of his cheek as he pinched the edges of the laceration and carefully applied the glue, then the steri-strips.

"Stefan," Alaric said slowly, watching him carefully as the brunette taped a piece of sterile pad over his heel. "You did that rather proficiently."

"I grew up watching how wounds were _made_ , I also wanted to learn how to mend them, heal them." Stefan wrapped his foot with an elastic fabric bandage to keep the gauze in place. "When we grew into men, younger and physically stronger with the means of striking back, the physical beatings almost abated completely and Giuseppe's abuse became more psychological, verbal putdowns and the like—but what neither Damon or I would admit was that despite having the means between us, we were still afraid of father. Anyway," he was drawn back into the present when Alaric stroked his arm. "I wanted to go to school, become a doctor—not that he would have approved—but before I could even _plan_ how to go about such a feat, Katherine happened."

"No more explanation needed," Alaric murmured.

"You don't see all the scars because the vampire blood, completing the transition, it healed all the scar tissue. Now the scars just lay a little deeper than tissue." He glanced up from tucking the wrap. "I said too much--" but Alaric shook his head.

"You endured, Stefan. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"Yeah, sure. We're the poster children for well adjusted." He remarked sardonically. "What gave it away? The mass murder, tearing off peoples heads, or playing with my food? Damon's own disregard for human life?" he deadpanned. "I've done the math, Ric—literally—and I've murdered more than Damon by 4 times at least. And those are only of the ones that I remember. If I was a strong as you say, I never would have turned Ripper in 1912, I would have resisted the pull of father's blood that night in 1864. It hasn't been strength that's kept me going or fighting, Ric, it's selfishness and fear."

"You have a good heart, Stefan." Alaric cupped his face. "There's nothing that says you're more human than fear. What's the rarity is your sympathy and idealism after all you've been through. You're love for your brother after all he's put you through."

"His love for me after all I've put him through," Stefan corrected.

"I'm sure he'd say the same thing if he was so inclined to share his feelings on occasion." Alaric said, and somehow teased a twitch of a smirk from the corner of his brunette's lips. "You deserve to have this Christmas with Damon--"

"And _you_ ," Stefan added.

"And me." Alaric nodded. "So I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that this thing happens tomorrow."

"You're going to help me lie to Damon?" Stefan asked, surprised.

"Do you promise you're going to explain to me what happening with you?" Stefan nodded. "Then... it's all in the spirit of Christmas." Alaric raised to his feet and held both his hands out to the teen.

Stefan had a huge grin as he grasped his hands and the vampire pulled him smoothly to his left foot, his right held slightly aloft. "First thing's first," he interlaced their finger and gazed at him with soft eyes. "I love you. I don't know what I could have done to deserve you, but I'm gonna stop asking that ridiculous question."

"Good. Because I love you back, no questions asked." He ducked his chin and kissed the brunette. "Next?"

"I need a sock," he announced to Alaric's amusement. "The kitchen needs to be cleaned up..."

"I have to change my pants," Alaric added.

"You do?" Stefan looked down between them. "Not that I'm against you out of your pants, but why?"

"There's blood on them. You might not be able to see it 'cause they're black, but Damon will be able to smell it, just like I can."

Stefan nodded his understanding and was about to pack up the kit when he caught Alaric instinctive little head twitch at a distant sound that was on the vamp-hearing spectrum and not a human's. He sighed, "That's Damon, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"We'll this was fun while it lasted. He'll have smelled the blood by now," Stefan remarked and Alaric grimaced as he heard the curse from the kitchen. "He'll have focused his hearing and can hear me talking right now," Stefan tucked his injured foot from sight behind his calf, without much hope of the hiding place lasting very long with Damon on the scent of his blood, even if the Medical Kit didn't give it away. "And he'll be here by the time I finish this sentence." The couple both looked toward the open bathroom door and Damon stood in the doorway, still in his leather jacket and boots, Stefan's bloodied sock clenched in his hand.

Damon eyed the pair, eyed the kit, then it drifted over to Stefan's stance before climbing to his brother's casual expression. "Show me." Damon commanded.

"I just wrapped it," Stefan protested.

"Stefan," he said in a low, hard voice.

"It's just a cut," he tried, then grimaced at his brother's pointed next words:

"A cut that should have healed." And they were back to the crux of the issue.

Stefan glanced back at Alaric who gave him a grimace of sympathy but he got no further help, the vampire seeking answers just as much as the other. The brunette sighed and sat back on the tub edge, his ankle back on his knee and unwrapped it and peeled the gauze from the wound, wincing a little as it stuck.

Damon cut him a look as he crouched beside him, then examined it with a critical eye in the overhead light. "You glued it?"

Stefan shrugged. "I didn't want to stitch it."

Damon glanced over his foot at his calm brother. "You _knew_ it wouldn't heal," he challenged.

"I had a suspicion," he allowed.

Damon directed a glare over at the teacher.

"I thought it was going to heal, but it didn't." Alaric told him.

"You should have called me."

"It's a cut," Stefan scoffed. "It's not like I lost a finger or anything. I treated it, it's fine."

Damon turned back to the teen. "It should have healed, Stefan. You know it should have, so what the hell aren't you saying right now?"

"I responded differently to compulsion than was normal so it's just common sense that I would react with the same difference to vampire blood."

"Not good enough." The vampire stood and crossed his arms.

"The bite from this morning already took longer than what should have been normal to heal, so recently after ingesting so much vampire blood."

Damon turned cold eyes onto the teacher. "You feed from him this morning," he accused, his voice low and dangerous.

"Not the point," Stefan said forcefully.

"Don't be a martyr," he deadpanned knowingly. "It would be a waste of your talent seeing as you'd be saving no one in the process."

Stefan hung his head, his fists clenched on his thighs. "I just wanted to have a normal Christmas with my family, but it's like you can't even give me that." He squeezed his eyes shut against the burn of tears. "Do you honestly think I care that a stupid little cut didn't heal when the first time in the past 145 years the unsatiable ravenousness that has hounded me 24/7 has been nonexistent for the last 20 hours?" he rose his head and locked his gaze onto his brother's. "Do you think I care about the headaches or the nosebleed, or the blackouts?" he glanced at Alaric, "When my constant tormenter at this very moment, is silent? That the black hole inside of me has finally stopped trying to dry out my soul and consume my body from the inside, out?" he breathed heavily into the silence as he looked between the 2.

"You've been having more nosebleeds and blackouts?" Damon finally questioned.

Stefan gave an incredulous laugh. "Have you not been listening to what I've been saying?"

"Yeah and what I'm hearing is that you've been lying to us for weeks, keeping important secrets about your _life._ Am I wrong?"

"Can you honestly blame me?" he asked. "I allowed it in the beginning, I understood. I died and you were scared and lost—the both of you were. And after seeing me as practically invulnerable and durable for the past 145 years, despite the animal blood, I'm utterly the opposite now and it's particularly inconceivable that I don't need a watchdog to live my life. And I admit, when we were dealing with Katherine and you went back to being my big brother again and not my eternal misery, I indulged in it. But now, this? This, right here," Stefan gave a helpless shake of his head, "is singularly the opposite of that. It's like you're a different person, Damon. And I just-- I can't understand it—you were never like this before when we were human."

"I didn't know what I know now."

"You knew about Katherine, you knew about vampires." Stefan challenged, "You left me alone with her."

"You're always going to hang her over my head, aren't you?" Damon scoffed. "What do you want me to say, Stefan?" he threw up his hands. "That I... that I didn't-- I never thought she'd hurt you, Stefan." He admitted ashamedly.

"But she did!" Stefan rose to his feet, only subconsciously registering the sharp sting through his injured heel. "I wanted to run _from_ her and you wanted to run away _with_ her." This wasn't even what the brunette was trying to explain but it was like an festering wound he couldn't hold closed any longer and all the built up pus was gushing out before they could get to the heart of the infection.

"And that is my greatest folly. I trusted her with most the precious thing in my life—You think Alaric was the only one who was just going 'fade away'," Damon gestured at the other vampire, "that night at the quarry? I've lost you too many times and I'm not going to make that same mistakes again!" Damon shouted gruffly.

Stefan's heart squeezed painfully in his chest as he saw the emotional pain shinning in his brother's blue eyes and just for that, he very nearly just gave in to his boyfriend and brother's desire for this thing they so desperately wanted for him, but he could not seem to want with that same depth—but alas... he had loaded the weapon, he had cocked the gun, he needed to pull the trigger.

"You and Ric keep telling me and trying to convince me that this is a gift, a miracle, a freedom from the disparity of being a vampire—but what neither of you seem to realize that _this_ is more of a curse than that was. There is no liberty from the oppressing hunger, crushing emotion, no stake for self-control. It's like I still possess my faults as a vampire, but all the means that allowed me take self-possession of them has been stripped away. I might as well be locked down in the cellar for all the freedom it has. Being human, weak and vulnerable, it's like an invisible collar slowly choking me and you're both holding the leash." He looked between the vampires desperately, hoping they could somehow understand it. "How many times do I have to say it? I am _tired_ and I need to breathe. Let me fucking _breathe._ " He pressed the heels of his hands into his forehead. "I love you both but I can't keep doing this or I'm going to _drown_!" he moved.

Alaric tried to reach for him, stop him, but with a despairing look from the teen, dropped his hand. Damon just stood there silently, fists clenched tightly at his sides and let him pass. Stefan made his way down the hall to his bedroom where he closed and locked the door and stood in the darkness for a moment, but it was just the illusion of breathing room in a house of vampires and so he made his escape. Was he being petty? Childish? Perhaps, but at the moment he couldn't care less at this moment. He just needed to get _away_ , gain some literal space between them, and get some perspective, they wouldn't have let him leave otherwise.

He turned on the lights and walked unevenly to his en suite where he rewrapped his heel before putting on a pair of clean, thick socks. He turned on his stereo for ambient noise. His boots and jacket were downstairs so he found a pair of sneakers and pulled on a thick, Timber Wolves hoodie. Stefan found a small flashlight in his desk, scooped up his leather journal but left his cell phone because he knew Damon had loaded another child-tracker app onto it and that was the last thing he needed. He rolled up the blanket from the back of his leather loveseat and finally went to his dresser and took the drawer lock key from the decorative box next to Salvatore's bowl and unlocked the top drawer. He took one of the spare keys that he'd bought against Damon's knowledge for the new deadlock knobs he'd put on Stefan's balcony doors while he'd been in the hospital and had left locked away until now.

Stefan unlocked the doors and stowed the key in his jean pocket and closed the doors carefully again, leaving his music and light on. He felt the cool nip in the evening air. It had yet to truly snow, just some wet flurries once in the last week. For the Tree Ceremony, the town council had issued a snow machine to blanket the park, where there had been a snowman building contest and even an epic snowball war with the children and most of the teenagers. Of course, by the next morning the park was left mostly in slush.

At the railing, Stefan tossed the rolled blanket into the hedge below, and stepped over the railing onto the outside edge of the balcony platform. His toes taking his weight, he crouched, holding onto the bars of the rail, with taut muscles, he lowered himself into open air until he dangled at length and dropped the remaining 3 feet and change to the ground, grunting at the pain through his foot as he landed but there was nothing more dramatic about it.

Stefan would have loved to take his car, but that would _immediately_ alert the vampires of his departure and that was the last thing he wanted. He would only have 10 minutes head start at the extreme most before they became aware of his absence with his lack of heartbeat even with his music to listen through, that was no issue for a vampire as old as Damon.

Collecting the blanket from the hedge, Stefan allowed himself a deep breath of cool, fresh night air to expand his lungs and flood his blood with oxygen before he took off at a sprint around the security lights of the drive and disappeared into the woods, ignoring the pain of his laceration with the surge of adrenaline. If he was a vampire he wouldn't have been reduced to sneaking out of his room like a rebellious teenager, he could simply speed out the door, but that was the very reason this was happening—he wasn't a vampire any longer. He found it ironically funny that he had less control now than he seemed to have with the Ripper constantly breathing down the back of his neck, whispering to him of freedom and joy, such control in his uncontrollability.

He stopped once he lost sight of the Boarding House floodlights and the terrain too dangerous to run, especially with lack of light and took out the flashlight. He could hardly hear the creak of the naked branches in the breeze through the wood over his heavy steps and harsh breathing. With his injured foot, human pace, and limited vision, it took about an hour to make his destination and what previously would have taken him under 8 minutes as a vampire.

Stefan turned off the flashlight as he broke through the tree line and underbrush and into the shore clearing of the quarry; though there were clouds in the sky overhead and it was just a quarter moon, the light reflecting off the water's surface cast the area with a dull silver light. Taking a moment to gaze around, the brunette found the approximate area by the shore (he'd been a little disoriented at the time to remember where exactly) and with the blanket folded over once lengthwise, he laid it in the spot where he had come to life from death.

Hood up, he set his journal on the corner of the blanket and laid down on his back, looking toward the sky, his feet towards the water. He wasn't quite sure why he thought something monumental would happen in doing this, going back to the place that bore curses and miracles with each return—it wasn't as if Steven's quarry was actually an area imbued with _magic_ —the place was just a coincident in the turn of several pivotal moments in the youngest Salvatore's life.

How many beginnings and coinciding endings had he met here? His transition; his fractured relationship with Damon; his dire determination to get it back; his rebirth into the living—and here he lay again, waiting for some sort of levelling revolution to strike him. But he was just stuck on a roundabout of interlaced hope and heartbreak, dreams and truth. He was back to a very similar conundrum as when he'd come running here after Alaric ended things the first time in his classroom; he couldn't be what they wanted, so what was he supposed to do?

Stefan had always felt things strongly, even before he became a vampire and felt deep compassion when harm came to man or animal—the only difference was that he became a killer when he turned into a vampire.

Of course he had hunted animals when he was human, his father wouldn't see otherwise. Stefan understood when you hunted for food, for your family's survival. He could just never understand doing it for sport. Stefan always thought of that way as murder—a useless death. But Giuseppe refused to have weaklings for sons. " **Only a true man can be a hunter, Stefan**." His father used to say, but Stefan soon learned what he really meant: _only a real man can_ **kill _._** If that was the truth, then his father really was the 1 that turned him into a _real_ man.

But that first slay was also what transformed the horrified teenager into the impersonal, predatory, ultimate killer. The completion of the transition was the full adaptation of the body as well as the mind; the chemical responses altered of thinking turned linear to a human's, the metamorphosis of essentially benign organism into a destructive one with the critically bloody catalyst. Emotional intelligence and civility were an evolution in humankind—but it was as if the heightened emotional state of vampire was purely derived to drive them to turn off their humanity and truly become the world's most fiercest calculating predator. While a vampire's heightened senses and sharpened instinct could be considered that, an evolution, the way of feeding, the violent tendencies and lack of driven inhumanity could be considered the opposite, a regression, a reversal of progress.

To be such a way for so long, to have such things controlling his every move, every emotion, his life—then suddenly revert back to this form without warning could be called more than a simple shock to the body; to his _mind_ , his _emotional_ state. To have sustained such control over himself and to suddenly have all of it stripped away without his opinion—to be smothered and allowed no other option—was an altogether different kind of madness. The loss of control and choice was an all encompassing mass to shroud and press upon him.

As a vampire, being a Ripper just wasn't about the blood lust; it was being engulfed with such devastating emotion that made he flip the switch. So, in Ripper Recovery, it had become about sorting through the flood and storing. He'd learned the hard way that he couldn't just gather up all the swirling dark emotion and shove it into the metaphorical closet to be ignored until the hinges broke from the stress and everything came flying out to swamp him again. Being an addict wasn't some one process treatment, it was a constant illness that needed continued supervision lest he fall off the wagon; so he adopted his own version of the memory palace method and adapted it towards his erratic, explosive emotions. A safety deposit box vault, but even banks were impregnable—they got flooded, power outages, accounting issues, and broken into and burglarized just like memory palaces.

And once again he was forced to rebuild from scratch, yet lacked the proper ability to construct such extravagance to restore his mind, let alone a strong foundation.

It was like 146 years worth of disparaging emotion was left swimming through him with a broken filter, no way to catch and contain. He didn't believe that a human's thought capacity was... lesser, just that a vampire's brain was altered to process more information, more memory from their extension of life when a human brain was simply calibrated for a set amount of life lived, deteriorating throughout as vampires were magically preserved at their peak.

The cold from the ground had leached through the blanket and into his back, but he had long since grown numb to it.

Stefan had come to the silent, subconscious acceptance that he too, was deteriorating, but at a significantly accelerated pace to the norm. After all, he'd lived beyond his years as a magically enhanced creature, it would stand to reason for complications. There was no fault in it towards Bonnie; she had gone beyond her countenance of friend to bring him back and he was sure that if, say, a recently more transitioned vampire like Alaric had been brought back, there wouldn't be the same issues. He just didn't think, like the others, that they thought what the consequences to playing God to life and death would be—making Bonnie Doctor Frankenstein and him Frankenstein's Monster.

The moon and clouds overhead became an indistinguishable smear of grey and dark as his eyes abruptly flooded with tears and a sob choked out from his throat.

' _There are good parts to being a vampire, and there are bad parts_ — _you are all the bad parts, Stefan.'_ That was what Lexi had told him when they met, when he found out the name for the kind of vampire he was, when he finally was able to put a name to the monster he was—a Ripper.

But there was no one here to tell him what he was now, to fix him up and send him back into society. ' _Boy, are you an idiot_ ,' he could just hear her now, ' _You got a house full of them. Granted, one of them is Damon...'_ he could even picture her cheeky grin as she said it.

And even as a figment of his imagination, she was right. He had his brother back, a man to love and love him back, dear friends, and a home. So what the hell was he doing out here in the night and cold, alone? Was he so adept at misery, that he couldn't accept happiness when it was presented to him on a platter? He had all these amazing things in his life and all he could focus on was this single imperfection.

A sudden anger surged inside of him, so hot and sharp and he jack-knifed upright and gave a short shout. Silence met him. It wasn't enough. He climbed to his feet, faced toward the water, fists clenched at his sides—and screamed long and hard, his harsh vocals echoing back towards him like a tin can from the cliff sides. He screamed until he was breathless, until his throat and chest hurt. Until there was nothing but salt tracks down his red cheeks and he was left exhausted and bereft of all the anger, the confusion, pain, the built up resentment; towards himself and the others, that had been a swirling toxic mass inside of him (if temporarily) and all that could be left was the calm rationality—a clarity.

Pretty little snowflakes started to fall from the sky, sent on a twirling dance through the air by the invisible swirls of wind currents coming off the water.

This human body could be his prison, if he made it so; or it could be the gift Alaric claimed it to be, if he chose. That was solely his decision, no one could make that choice but him. This truth he could control. Even if this _life_ was forced onto him against his own wish, it had not been done out of malice, but an act of love.

This time, with his face turned towards the sky, his arms spread wide, the tears were of freedom, such a crushing burden lifted from his soul as the falling flakes melted softly against his warm cheeks.

Maybe There was a magic about this place after all...

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Well, I'm ending the chapter here. I had every intention of containing 'Christmas' to this one chapter, but I wanted to post something and otherwise it would have been some more weeks before you all got anything.**
> 
>  
> 
>  **Below is the (DELETED) ORIGINAL scene that I wrote for after Stefan drinking the orange juice:**  
>  Stefan’s hand wrapped around the glass for a moment before he slowly lifted the rim to his lips. It tasted acidic and sour and he sputtered a little.  
> "Stef?" Alaric looked up from where he was crouched with the dustpan.  
> Stefan waved his hand, eyes squeezed shut as he made himself swallow several mouthfuls before he put the glass down, juice sloshing. He swallowed convulsively against the sudden influx of saliva again, the gag reflex. "I'm fine, I'm just going to lay down." He stood up, back to Alaric and left, his grip tight on the doorjamb as he passed and disappeared.  
> "Stefan!" Alaric quickly finished sweeping up the glass and emptied the dustpan into the garbage can. The toast popped, forgotten. He pulled out his cell phone and quickly sent a 2 worded text that would get Damon's ass in gear from wherever the hell he'd disappeared to: it's Stefan. And followed after the teen. This wasn't just some sudden aversion to food. No. That episode... Alaric shuddered. _'I'm dying and you don't even know it.'_ To his confusion, he just caught sight of Stefan disappearing into the parlor instead of heading up the stairs.  
>  Stefan needed calm, peace, and some Christmas Joy right now. He grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa and knelt at the edge of the tree to disassemble part of the train track and turned on the lights. He pushed the pillow under the tree, laid on his back and wiggled his way beneath the tree onto the skirt, head pillowed and stared up through the pine needle covered boughs and coloured lights.  
> Alaric paused for an instant as he found Stefan's lower half sticking out from under the Christmas tree before he knelt down next to him, resting a hand on his knee. "Stef?"  
> "Christmas Joy." He whispered.  
> "Yeah." Alaric agreed softly. "Me and my cousins always used to do the same thing when we were kids." A moment of silence. "Are you okay? You're not getting sick again, are you? You haven't eaten all day and every time you try, it looks like you're going to be sick.”  
> "I'm fine. Just working too hard." Stefan told him.  
> "Stefan, you can't just keep all this stuff bottled inside. You don't have to. You're not alone anymore."  
> "I know."  
> He moved his hand from his knee and took Stefan's hand. "You take too much onto your shoulders needlessly. Like decorating the Boarding House, doing all the cooking..."  
> "I let you help with the pies," Stefan defended.  
> "See?" he pointed out. "You say it like you were doing me a favour by letting me help, instead of me easing the burden on you."  
> "I **like** doing it," Stefan whispered, closing his eyes against the sudden burn behind his eyes. "I like taking care of people, easing their burdens. My life is a wreck most of the time, but if I can help someone, do something to make them _happy_ , then that makes _me_ happy." He squeezed Alaric's hand. "See? So you don't have to worry."  
>  "You worry so much about everyone else, you drive yourself into the ground, you throw yourself into danger—without a thought for yourself." Alaric wished desperately he could see Stefan's face, look him in the eyes but he was hidden from view under the tree. "But what about how devastated and heartbroken we'll all feel when you drive yourself into your grave looking out for us?"  
>  **a/n: I also have another ALTERNATE of this DELETED ORIGINAL SCENE that I wrote (which is longer and I intend to post at the end of the story with the others) but decided to scrape and settled on the broken-bowl bit. What do you think?**


	17. CHAPTER 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. Here is Part 2 of the Christmas chapters filled with lots of drama and angst, aren't the holidays always? Enjoy and prepare....

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Stefan was tired, sore, and cold by the time he made it back through the flurries to the Boarding House. The outside Christmas lights were dark and there was nothing but the glare of the floodlights in his eyes as he limped onto the portico, and he couldn't be sure what it might be a sign of. Both Damon's Chevy Camaro and Alaric's Tahoe were still in the drive, that was... good? He had every idea of what he was going to be walking into, the heightened anger of 2 worried vampires; there was going to be a lot of apologizing and explaining on his part, but this latest revelation on his part should help ease the tension—at least that was his dire hope.

It could be a Christmas Miracle for the books.

"H--!"

The front door had just clicked shut behind him when Damon slammed him back against it with enough force to momentarily rob him of breath and voice at this critical moment. Damon pinned him there with an arm across his chest, his blue eyes blazing fiercely even as he scoured his baby brother for anything amiss for the relative 8 hours of his absence, his chest heaving with roiling, violent emotion.

Stefan was frozen, eyes wide as they were locked into his brother's own, he opened his mouth, but no words came. No such impediment claimed his big brother as he suddenly slammed his fist into the door behind Stefan; it made such a terrible noise as vampiric-strengthened knuckles met the solid oak door.

"Alright, Stefan." Damon released him and stepped back. He looked at the teen for a moment longer, a shading of dark finality in his closed-off face and then blurred upstairs, disappearing and leaving Stefan absent.

"D--" Stefan stared after his brother. _What had Damon just agreed to_? The exhausted teen didn't like the unease that trickled into his veins. He had been expecting _something_ on his return, just not _that._ More... like a pacing parent to a snuck out teenager; angry shouts at his return, but a fierce embrace of relief; sent up to his room, but later a knock on his door with a hot cup of tea. But then, that wish was contrary to the 1 that he shouted at them earlier before he 'ran away', so why did he hate it?

Stefan shifted back uncomfortably off his injured heel and stared at the scuff on the dark wood of the door. He reached out, his fingertip brushing over the nearly invisible scuff on the wood. He felt the crack in the grain; Damon must have put a lot of strength into it to even get that. When he removed his hand, there was a smear of blood on his finger. He swallowed and closed his eyes for a minute.

Their last true amicable encounter had been 1942 when Stefan had tracked Damon down in New Orleans in the hopes to make amends before he shipped off as a ambulance driver for the North American campaign (for what would be the next 3 years). Damon had been wary at first of his little brother's amicable approach, usually it was the brunette who was cautious but hopeful of the raven-haired vampire's appearance (who's last reappearance turned him Ripper in 1912), but the only ulterior motive that Stefan ever had was wanting his brother back. Damon eventually warmed to him and proposed joining him in campaign much to Stefan's soaring heart. Until he never showed up at the station—their next reunion in 1994 was filled with blood and betrayal.

15 years after that, here they stood. A separation this time instigated, unmeaning, by Stefan himself.

Last time the brunette had caused a rift between them, it lasted little less than a century and a half. Clearly, in his current condition that would not be an option, nor one even if he had a continued eternity to waste. Stefan had given in, given up, but Damon had opened up and closed the distance, mending the separation.

Stefan shouldn't have expected everything to return back as it had the last time they were human. 145 years was bound to change someone, even vampires/brothers as stubborn as them (especially when it came to each other). They'd been through too much, together and individually, to revert to such a state unless somehow, the last 146 years could be wiped from memory, existence altogether—though he'd be averse to scrubbing any memory of Damon from his mind, even the ones of agony. Damon was his big brother, he couldn't just take and leave pieces of what he liked or disliked, it had to be the whole of him, every fault and evil, or it wasn't true, real.

It had been a inconceivable amount of time that Damon had kept himself closed-off to the younger Salvatore, closed off from _everyone_ , distanced with lashing out cruelly, both physically and verbally. But finally, Damon had started to open up, left himself exposed in 1 of the most vulnerable of ways—and Stefan, in his own selfish anger and frustration, lashed out, ironically enough, as if their rolls had suddenly reversed. He had been so cruel towards his big brother's love; more annoyed and burdened by it than receptive and appreciative as he should have been after such silence and emptiness. It had been that way for so long that _it_ had become the norm instead of the brotherly affection and concern, that receiving it, so concentrated and all at once, Stefan had been overwhelmed and found it difficult to calibrate to such a significant change.

Stefan slowly trudged up the stairs, 1 step at a time—literally.

And Ric... what had the dirty-blond ever done to deserve that very same tongue-lashing? He'd gave in to Stefan's request of secrecy and promised to do all in his power to make this a drama free Christmas and then snap at him the for being too clingy, too caring?

He wasn't overly forceful like Damon, undercutting Stefan's personal authority. He wasn't overbearing in knowing Stefan's every move and exact whereabouts like Damon. No, Alaric wasn't like that exactly, but he was too cautious and had a tendency to treat Stefan as if he were made of fragile, breakable China on the brink of cracking if he was set down just a little too hard—though that could also be understandable in the strictest sense that Stefan no longer had the healing capabilities of a vampire and Alaric now possessed the enhanced strength of a vampire. It was incredibly frustrating, because as proved even just now by Damon, he wasn't as fragile as a spider's web.

Stefan limped down the hall towards his bedroom.

All these overbearing emotions, Stefan knew they were all just violent visceral reactions magnified by their vampirism; Alaric new to this state and Damon with his returned humanity. He knew that, understood it, for the past month had even tried to facilitate the process, ease their fears, bow into it their wishes—because god knew he was a hypocrite if he didn't admit had the roles been reversed, he'd probably be the worst of them all—but now that he'd made the first clear step for himself in the direction of accepting this new changed state of his body, his life, he had the hope _they_ were the ones that could now ease off now that he wasn't so keen down the destructive or spiralling path.

His bedroom door was open and he could see the pool of light leak out onto deep red rug laid over the floorboards in the hallway, he was relieved now that the invisible worry of Alaric's presence was eased, but the beating organ picked up pace a bit in his uneasiness at what kind of reaction he was going to receive after Damon's welcome.

That invisible relief shattered with clarity of the horrible reality he just walked in upon.

Stefan froze, staring as he watched Alaric _pack._ "What are you doing?" he finally managed. Somehow his voice only came out confused and mildly worried despite the panic mounting inside of him. To stop his hands from visibly shaking, he twisted the blanket hanging around his shoulders in his hands.

Alaric's movements only paused for the fraction of a second before he continued and finished packing clothes inside his duffle at the foot of their bed. "I... I thought it might be better if slept in Zach's old room." He didn't bother to zip it up and just hung the strap from his shoulder as he turned to the teen.

Much like Damon, his blue gaze grazed every inch of Stefan that they could see. He didn't have to catch sight of the brunette's foot, hidden behind the reading chair, held subtly aloft to notice the hint of pain in the subtle tightness at the corner of his lips, or the exhaustion dragging at him. But even for all that, the bampi could see the same heavy release hiding behind it all, some weighted burden, lightened, lifted, gone. And if nothing else, he was glad for it—and made it all the much more harder and easier for what he was about to do.

Stefan was eerily still as he stared at the vampire. _No! Please don't leave, I don't want you to go. Stay, Ric! Don't leave me..._ his chest constricted so tightly that it took him a moment for the words to escape around the lump in his throat, but they were not even marginally close to the ones he wanted; just altruistic acceptance: "You're probably right." Why? Why couldn’t he fucking say the real words blasting through his head? The truth, but instead they lay imprisoned in his weak vocal cords.

Alaric gave him a tight smile and short nod of acceptance. He started toward the door, but when he reached Stefan, he paused. "I'm glad you came back."

"Of course I came back," Stefan managed faintly. The 2 things he loved most were here.

Alaric reached out and cupped the back of his head. Stefan squeezed his eyes closed as the teacher leaned forward and pressed his lips to his forehead for a long moment, inhaling deeply. Stefan had literally tied himself in knots, his hands tangled up in the blanket, unable to grab the man and keep him there. When he opened his eyes it was just in time to watch Alaric walk through the door and disappear from view as he turned down the hall. It felt too much like a separation, a goodbye.

Stefan sucked in a sharp, panicked breath. This wasn't supposed be how it happened. It couldn't--

 _They're just giving you what you want, aren't they?_ Katherine laughed at him.

It was like the classroom all over again. He didn't protest or fight, he just blindly accepted. If not being together had been what Alaric wanted, than what right did Stefan have to not give that to him? He couldn't force Alaric to be with him (technically he _could_ have, being a vampire at the time; but knew the truth of that from his experience with Katherine), love wasn't real if it was forced and manipulated. And she was right, Alaric and Damon were just giving him the space he wanted to _breathe_ , but it wasn't supposed to be like _this_ , wasn't supposed to feel like _this_. No, this, _this_ was what felt like a crushing weight on his chest, sinking him into the dark, cold, murky depths of desolation— **this** was _drowning_.

Alaric wasn’t deaf; he now had the key to truest form of lie detection; Stefan’s heartbeat. The dirty-blond had never truly conceived the metaphor ‘dying from a broken heart’ not even when he found out the truth about Isobel because Damon (damn the arrogant bastard) had been right; their marriage had problems like any other—If someone told him they had the _perfect_ marriage, he knew that person was full of shit or just plain ignorant. There was no such thing, it wasn’t real. And before he and Isobel married, before he managed to convince her to give him a chance, _those_ had been some rocky and sideways times, but _after_ all that, maybe deep down he knew that he already wasn’t enough when she poured more of her attention and love into her research than their marriage—her research into becoming a member of the undead, out of marriage with him in the living. And focused his denial, guilt, anger and grief into a pointed arrow to track down the monster that had killed her.

But right now, in stereo, he could hear Stefan’s heart breaking, fighting not to shatter completely as he walked down the hall, his eyes squeezed tight at the resounding pain. Him, he was the cause and he resisted the overpowering urge to turn on heel and blur back to the teen’s room and take it all back; but despite the horrible timing of it all (it was after midnight and Christmas Eve was over), he needed to go through with it.

Stefan tore his hands from the twisted up blank and burst out into the hall. "No!" Alaric turned in surprise. Stefan didn't even feel the pain of his heel for his determination as he ran down the hall. "No." He stopped in front of the bampi and grabbed the duffle strap, yanking it from his shoulder and hiding the bag behind his back. "You don't have to leave, okay?"

"Stefan, I'm not leaving, I promise. I'm just sleeping in another room."

But Stefan shook his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said; you were just trying to help me and you didn't deserve to be snapped at, I just let my frustrations get the best of me. I know I've been acting like I lost my mind, acting one way then a complete other—but that's over, okay? I got space, got perspective... it's done. You and Damon don't have to worry any more, everything will be better now. So... just come back? Please."

"Stefan, I'm not doing this to try and hurt you."

"Then why does it hurt?"

Alaric caressed Stefan's upper arms. "Being in love, that doesn't mean all the problems just go away. Neither of us are perfect and that's okay because that's _real_. So, as hard and as much as this hurts, it's the right thing to do."

"I told you, everything's fine now. It's--" Alaric shook his head. "Then _why_?"

"Because you were right." Alaric told him. _No more denial_ , he swore. He wasn’t going to let his and Stefan’s relationship follow that same track as his and Isobel’s; the only similarity between the 2 of them was his lovers’ desperation to become a vampire and that was where the buck stopped because Stefan loved Alaric enough to cut off the pursuit. "You warned me what this was going to be like, being a vampire, the amplified emotions. And I was so worried about my anger... that I let other issues I had as a human run ramped, like my tendency to get... obsessed. It's like a switch goes in my head and I go intense focus. Comes in handy as a historian, getting hooked into a project." He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair in shame, "But not so much in relationships. I just want you to be as comfortable, content, and as safe as possible and sometimes it can be construed as being forceful, controlling, and overbearing when it is not like that. I was the same way with Isobel. She--"

" _Don't_ \--" Stefan said, dropping the duffle bag with a shake of his head. "Don't compare me to her. She _left_ you, to try and become vampire—she _wanted_ to be a monster. The only appeal vampirism has for me now is to _be with you_ ," he reached forward and grabbed Alaric's hands, squeezing them. "For eternity. The truth is, I was scared— _am_ scared." He admitted quietly, "That you're going to get it into your head that I'm better off staying this way, _without_ _you_ , to have a normal life, the life I might of had had I never had the misfortune of meeting Katherine on the road that morning."

Like with having saved Elena that night and then compelling the memory away, the first time Stefan met Katherine had not been at the Salvatore Estate to greet her arrival alone with father away at a business meeting and Damon away at war—like with all the other pieces of compulsion that started to reveal themselves to him in transition, so then did this; his _first_ true meeting of Miss Katherine Peirce:

_He'd been out for a ride when he came across a stuck carriage in the mud from the previous night's rain and politely offered his assistance as any gentleman should and would, which was gladly accepted by the driver. With his own horse roughly harnessed with the others at the front and him at the back, they were able to unstuck the carriage and he was consequently spattered with mud. He started back around the carriage to the front where the driver had hopped down and was untying Stefan's horse, when the carriage door opened, blocking his path. His gaze took in the revelation of a very stunning Lady and her maid in the shadowed confines._

_"I hope this misfortune hasn't been too troubling in your journey?" he said politely._

_"I dare say that it has not, now with you here to save us, Mister...?"_

_"Stefan Salvatore, Miss." He gave a gentleman's bow. "At your service."_

_"How gallant!" Katherine giggled. He straightened. "And look at you for your kindness, covered in mud. Such a shame to see you covered up like that." And to his shock, she reached out a slim, gloved hand, and wiped away the bit of mud he had spattered on his neck from the open collar of his shirt._

_"No worries, Miss." He swallowed, an unbidden blush ridding from the top of his chest, through his neck and into his face at the action. He could have sworn that he saw shadows crawl hungrily around on the olive-toned skin beneath her eyes, but was sure it was just his flustered mind playing tricks on him in this unexpected situation. He cleared his throat, "If there's anything else I may assist you ladies in?"_

_"Oh, there most definitely is," she caught his gaze with compelling brown eyes. She questioned his status, family, on Mystic Falls among other things. "Just one more thing, Stefan." She lured his compelled form closer with a crook of her gloved finger. He obediently leaned forward, shoulders disappearing into the inside of the carriage. She cupped his face with both hands, "Have to sample the vintage before I make the commitment."_

_With directions to be quiet and still, she turned his face as her own transformed from beautiful, exotic features, to vicious hunger. She sunk her wicked fangs into the delicate tissue of his neck with a low growl. She didn't compel away the fear or the pain, just voice and mobility. He was a prisoner in his own mind as his eyes locked with Emily's on the opposite facing seat as Katherine feed hungrily from his throat, not letting a drop be wasted passed her plump lips._

_Though her back was straight, her hands clasped lightly in her lap, her expression stoic as her Mistress fed, there was sorrow in Emily's gaze as she held his, as if she already knew of his fate and was burdened with helpless regret._

_Finally, Katherine released him, her tongue drawing luxuriously over the open wound of her bite. Deliciously licking his warm blood from her lips, she purposefully pierced her tongue with her fangs and hands at his nape, pulled him in for an open-mouthed kiss, her bloodied tongue stroking the roof of his mouth as he shivered in her hold. The wound healed without a trace. She leaned back, her gloved thumb stroking the sensitively healed skin._

_"I shall see you soon again, Mr Salvatore. And I dare say it will be even more entertaining and delicious than today." She thumbed his pink bottom lip before pressing her mouth against his in farewell once more. "Very soon indeed."_

_She compelled him to forget their meeting and everything else, only that he took a funny little tumble. She placed her hand on his chest and pushed, sending him stumbling back with enough force to trip into the mud. The driver lashed the horses and they took off, the carriage jostling momentarily as it was jolted into movement, before settling as the horses' stride smoothed further down the road._

_When Stefan came back to himself, it was in the mud, his horse lingering by the side of the road 4 yards away, nibbling the brush. He saw the fresh carriage tracks in the mud bed and frowned. They must have knocked him from his horse barrelling down the road. He climbed to his feet, only feeling a momentary dizziness as he came to height. He noted the muscle soreness, even tasted the blood on his lips he took for his own, but there were no breaks or twists. It was one lucky fall and the mud must had helped soften the landing; he didn't think he would be standing so unscathed had it not rained last night and softened the ground up. He approached his horse, stroking the animal's mane before he stuck his muddied boot into the stirrup, grabbed the saddle horn and pulled himself up. Not wise of the guest that would grace the Salvatore Estate in less than a fortnight's time as he steered the animal onto the path back towards home._

Stefan alone had greeted her. It was he who had invited her into the Salvatore Home, because it was he who had attracted the wolf in sheep's dress. Stefan shook the distracting and useless memory away and focused again on the vampire in front of him. "But I'm not. This has been the best I've been, the happiest I've been in the last 146 years—with you, no one else." He closed the gap between their bodies, tangling their fingers and giving them a squeeze. "I love you the way you are, Ric. I'm not searching for something or someone else because I already found it in you."

Alaric inhaled thickly through the lump in his throat, and he couldn’t help but feel a new, yet old twinge of surprise in regard to the brunette who waited imploringly. "Had Isobel asked me to become a vampire with her—I never would have been able to do it. But you never asked me to, expected it of me when we got together. I wasn't ready for the commitment, not then and even though I didn't ask for it when it happened... I want you to know that I would have done it for you, Stefan—given the chance. The fact that you're willing to stay like this, for me (and Damon) despite your own misgiving and fear when you have the option to change that at any time, just makes me love you all the more. And it makes me even more happy to know that you're willing to give being human a shot, for _yourself_ , too." Alaric lightly bumped their foreheads together. "You really deserve this second chance at life, Stefan, the first stolen from you too soon."

"At the price you turning into a vampire?" Stefan couldn't help but remark bitterly.

"Neither was a price for the other," Alaric informed him. "I wasn't turned into a vampire because you were turned human. We didn't know that you would even be human when Bonnie and Emily brought you back. It's not me being a vampire at the price of you being human, but the other way around: my vampirism and your humanism, is the price for us to be together. And if that's the case, then I'll gladly pay it. I wouldn't want to be a vampire without you, but the only way I could still be with you was as a vampire, and the same goes for you, only with being a human."

"I never thought of it like that before," he murmured, almost more to himself than the bampi. Stefan gazed at the dirty-blond for a long moment. How had he never though about it like that before? Yes, Alaric had referred to it as a gift, Damon a miracle, but like many things, all he could think about, or ever consider of the situation he had put Ric in as an inescapable curse—1 that he was loath to wish on a enemy, let alone a person he loved—but not as the nexus of why they could be together at this very moment. His strongest supposition on the matter had been: **_He does everything for me, is everything, and all I ever seem to give him is pain and calamity._** But just because Stefan saw it like that… clearly Alaric was of a differing opinion.

Stefan never fought back for himself, it was only ever for other people, because he could count the number of times he decided to be selfish, to do what _he_ wanted; and he could count on those same fingers how devastating each 1 of those ended. The consequences always laid on others: Katherine, father, Damon, Elena, Lexi, Alaric. Having gone to Giuseppe with the notion that vampires could be good despite both Damon and Katherine's wishes not to; having to say goodbye to his father despite the hell he had made of his sons' lives and Damon's advice; having been too much of a coward to go eternity alone despite Damon's own wishes; having inserted himself in her life despite Elena's innocence of the supernatural side; having convinced him to stay despite Alaric's desire that thing between them go no further. It was always the people Stefan cared for, always them that suffered for every selfish act of his; for his _own_ wants, his _own_ desires. He'd gotten each of them killed in their own ways, some permanent, some undead. The only 1 who was left truly _alive_ was Elena and Stefan knew it was probably only a matter of time.

He didn't fight back for himself; he always received the pain, welcomed the misery because he knew that he deserved it—for all the pain he caused the ones he loved, the suffering to those he didn't who were just bloody names written on a wall.

It was his own prophesised penance because there didn't seem to be anyone else willing to doll out punishment to evil creatures like him and there certainly wasn't anything more devastating than emotional pain. Perhaps, subconsciously, that was why he was so desperate to put down roots, make a new life for himself where he had the potential to find contentness (Lexi always told him that despite all the things he had done in the past, he was still a good man and deserved to find happiness) and then secretly anticipate an appearance from Damon to destroy it all and bring him to his knees all over again—rinse and repeat. He knew it would end that way, always, but he continued to do it, carried those new deaths on his conscious, to punish himself.

It was funny. Damon often mocked him for being an optimist, for having hope despite everything, but that was only true when it came to _other people_ , he had hope that things would work out for them and do his damnedest to see it come true, and he had belief in the person that they were, that they were worthy.

But when it came to himself, he was a pessimist. Sometimes, it only felt like he was being the man that people wanted him to be, what was expected of him ('Saint Stefan', as Damon mocked him), or the 'Golden Boy' of their youth. And maybe he was back then, as John Gilbert had put it: ' _I'm sure you were once a nice, descent kid, **once** —when you were human and alive... but now you're just a blood-sucking monster. You can only ever hurt her now.'_

His first kill had been an accident, he truly hadn't meant to hurt father, but when he _smelled_ Giuseppe’s blood, when he _licked_ the fresh warm blood from his fingers, with that first yawning ravenous feeling opening inside of him as he fangs torn through his gums—he could have healed the dying man with his vampire blood, but all his consciousness, his empathetic nature narrowed into the pinpoint of his hunger and the Golden Boy was dead and gone as his manslaughter had turned into murder. His sharp, virgin fangs bore down on his so previously feared father, now weak and vulnerable, and Stefan drank and ravaged the bloody wound on his father's stomach until the blood was no longer forthcoming, until wound was wide and open and appeared as if some savage animal had torn into him, organs displayed in the open, until the bastard was long dead. And the people after, his neighbours and friends, people his saw in market, the people he helped... he hunted them. The helpless, wounded soldiers on the battlefield from either side, an easy meal. Nice, descent kid to blood-sucking monster, the transition had taken under 5 seconds.

After Lexi took him under her wing, got him straight, force fed him animal blood when necessary much to her own disgust; the devastations that happened after, when he was clean, humanity turned on like a bright candle flame that drew in the dark, poisonous moths to punish him, guilt him, tempt him. It was karma, he knew. What better way to punish a monster than to give him an unending hunger and boundless empathy? He always believed it was karma, and in a way, it still was, he just had another name for it now: the curse of the doppelganger.

Look at Katherine: she got pregnant out of wedlock and her parents gave her daughter away and disowned their own. Barely a year later she was turned into a vampire and made such an enemy of someone equally immortal but more powerful, sending her on the run for the past 500 years. Unable to settle, make roots, cursed forever to be alone with no family or true friends, just people she manipulated, toyed with, turned their world upside down and then abandoned. Cursed to run forever. Until she made the fatal mistake of pausing and met her death at the hands of very ones she claimed to have loved.

Him: the true cause of their mother's illness, it wasn't until Lily became pregnant with him that she became sick. Their father, vampirism, his estrangement from Damon. Being the Ripper, a monster; still filled with guilt despite his lack of humanity. The insatiable hunger. Katherine's deadly obsession.

Elena: the loss of both her parents. Katherine's doppelganger. Falling in love with Stefan. Just knowing the Salvatore brothers. Her birth mother killed at Damon's fangs. And this was just the beginning of her life.

But there were precious little jewels in all that despair, weren't there? Of this, Stefan Salvatore knew because he was staring into the strong, loving blue eyes of 1 such gem. "Has anyone ever told you how smart you are?"

Alaric gave a chuckle and little grin. "Well, I'm not entirely averse to hearing you say so every once in a while."

Stefan couldn't help but tip forward and press a kiss to those stretched lips. "Smart, handsome, _and_ understanding; the complete package." He laid a hand on his chest, picking at the worn Duke lettering on his sweater. "I'm not going to say it."

"Good." Alaric laid his hand over Stefan's on his chest and gave it a squeeze.

"I'm exhausted and my foot is killing me." Stefan said. "Can we go to bed now?" Alaric sighed and Stefan's shoulders slumped. "Why do I get the feeling the answer is still 'no'? And I thought I had you thoroughly off the matter,"

Alaric gave him a small sad smile. "Sorry,"

"Even after all these amazing breakthroughs?" Stefan persisted. "Even though it's Christmas at this very moment?"

"When has the timing ever been perfect for anything?" Alaric said in return.

Stefan hung his head in defeat. "I can be understanding, too."

"Well, you wear it well." Alaric cupped his chin, raising his head.

"This is what I get for opening my big mouth," he grumbled unhappily.

"I'm glad you did, Stefan. I'm glad you said something. I can't actually read your mind, even if I can do other very incredible things now. And besides," he murmured, his thumb stroking Stefan's bottom lip, his eyes trained on the teen's mouth, "I love this big mouth."

Stefan smirked suggestively, his gaze darkening with budding arousal, his tongue flickering against the pad of the teacher's thumb. "Just 'cause you love it when I do things _other_ than talk wi--"

Alaric crashed their mouths together. Stefan instantly opened to the vampire. Stefan arms wrapped around his neck and Alaric his waist, pulling him to his chest and a couple inches from the floor. And moments later, breathless from the thorough kiss, Stefan found his feet again and a complete change of scenery. He looked around in surprise, confusion, then delight as he realized Alaric carried him back to his bedroom as they kissed, only to flood with disappointment as Alaric cupped his face and pressed what could only be construed as a chaste, goodnight-kiss to his mouth before pulling back. "You kissed me as a distraction and carried me back here," he accused.

"It was a very rewarding distraction," he pointed out cheekily.

Stefan shifted somewhat uncomfortably and it had nothing to do with his foot, more of a restriction issue. "I'm too tired to jerk off." He announced blandly.

Alaric raised an amused brow. "But you have enough in the tank for sex?"

"Maybe," Stefan admittedly reluctantly. "But I wouldn't of had to do much of anything if you used _your_ mouth,"

Despite pulling a laugh from the vampire, he was still denied. "Think of it this way... though I understood why you needed to get away, I'm still a bit upset about it. We didn't know where you went or how long you'd be gone. You left your cell phone so there was no way for you to call if something happened. Damon wanted to call Bonnie, get her to do a location spell on you; and honestly, I was of half the mind to let him but I knew that would just antagonize the situation and I somehow managed to stall him. He's angry at you, worried, he blames himself... and that makes him more angry. You know him better than I do."

"Yeah. He's gonna be antagonistic toward me—not that I don't deserve it." Stefan said sadly and with guilt. "I put some pretty undeserved blame on his shoulders, held him accountable for things that were beyond his control. I can be a pretentious prick when it comes to Damon; I get a complex when it comes to our relationship and it's not a side of myself that I like very much."

"You'll get through it," Alaric encouraged. "With your guys' dysfunctional relationship, this is hardly the mountain you're making it to be."

"Should I be insulted or emboldened by that assessment?" Stefan mused wryly.

"Encouraged. Definitely."

Stefan chuckled. "Just another day in _casa de_ Salvatore."

"How's your foot?" he asked after a moment.

"Hurts," Stefan admitted. He sat down in his reading chair next to him and carefully unlaced his sneaker. "Running and walking around on it outside in the woods was the last thing I should have been doing on it so soon after gluing it." After carefully pulling off the shoe and his sock, he unwrapped his heel and examined it under the direct light of the reading lamp next to the chair. It was red and raw-looking, but by some luck, all the activity hadn't rubbed away the skin glue and reopened the wound. He rewrapped it loosely in the elastic bandage. "It looks okay," he told the dirty-blond.

Alaric nodded. "No running off into the woods any time soon, then."

"Promise," he pulled off the other shoe and sock before he carefully stood. "You sure I can't convince you to stay?" Stefan pulled his unused journal from his hoodie pocket and set it by the lamp before he grabbed the collar of both the sweater and his shirt and pulled them both off overhead. He discarded them on the chair behind.

"Are you trying to entice me with your gorgeous body?" Alaric questioned, even as he couldn't help but cruise the displayed flesh.

"What?" Stefan looked at him a moment in confusion before he made the connection an instant later, realizing the accidental correlation between his question and the following removal of clothing. "I didn't--" he mumbled, embarrassed. "I wasn't trying to seduce you," he promised.

Alaric gave a little smile. "I know. You did the same thing in the hospital."

"I did?" Stefan questioned in surprise. "I don't remember."

"When you were being released from the hospital and I gave you your clothes, I was going to offer you privacy but you just dropped the grown right there and dressed. I was just surprised, that's all."

"Oh," Stefan said slowly, his brows furrowed. "Because we were in the hospital and I should have been more concerned about a nurse walking in, which would have been severely awkward even if you could compel them to forget," he said in understanding. "I wasn't even thinking about that," he admitted. "I really just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible before Damon changed his mind, and it was just _you_ ," he gestured at the bampi, "in the room with me. You're my boyfriend. And I don't just strip in front of anybody, no matter how many times Damon's says he's seen me naked, give me some credit."

Alaric chuckled. "That's good to know."

"You, on the other hand, can also feel free to strip in front of me. I have absolutely no issue on the matter." Stefan unbuckled his belt clasp and pulled the strap from his belt loops. "It's a standing, open invitation."

"I'll keep that in mind." Alaric turned and started to walk away.

"And there's no chance of you accepting it at the moment?" he looped the belt over his neck.

"Goodnight, Stefan." Alaric said patiently over his shoulder.

"You're stubborn. Guess the vampirism amplified that, too, huh?"

"Yeah, but you love me anyway." Alaric teased.

"Yes," Stefan said seriously. "I do."

Alaric paused in the door and turned back. "I love you, too, Stef." Alaric took hold the doorknob and pulled his bedroom door shut behind him, finally leaving the teen alone.

Stefan sighed and limped to his wardrobe. He hung his belt and stripped from his jeans, pulling on sweatpants and a wife beater. He went to the washroom, brushed his teeth and swallowed some Tylenol before he slipped under the covers with relief—physically at least.

His body ached, he was sore, his foot was throbbing, he was exhausted; that hike to the quarry had been the most physically active he'd been since he'd turned human. A trek like that wouldn't even made him sweat a drop, let alone leaving him feeling this taxed before, but then again, he wasn't at his most healthy at the moment despite the vampire blood that seemed to have done (perhaps) some sort of healing inside of him. He had been absent hunger for the past 30 hours, but he had no illusions that it would last more than 48 and honestly, he was afraid, afraid for what the morning would bring. Would his ravenous hunger return 10 fold? If he hadn't been able to eat anything with the blood in his system, would he be able to keep anything down when the hunger returned? He also hadn't had any flash migraines and accompanying nosebleeds (which had been increasing in frequency), he had no doubt that they would also be returning. It would only be a matter of time before he knew the exact ramification of the vampire blood and things had been going so _good_ up until the damn piece of glass in his foot. Even his allergic reaction to the nutmeg had barely even loosened the screw on his whole control of this situation, but the laceration on his heel broke the damn thing. That was why Stefan hadn't wanted Damon to find out about it, knowing he couldn't just brush it under the rug even temporarily, not that Stefan could blame his big brother for the reaction when the brunette had _another_ inordinary response to something vampire—and things might not have even been as bad as they were had Stefan not thrown a _tantrum_ and then _runaway_ displaying a true show of adolescence and displaying his true age of immature 17. But the anger and frustration had just clawed out of him like a monster and once it escape it had been difficult to reign back in and he just needed to get _away_ and regain control over his feral emotions and rediscover the eye. How might things have gone had he stayed that composed equilibrium?

Definitely better than Alaric choosing to sleep in another room altogether. And it definitely had to have been better than Damon shadowing him out. Stefan released a depressed sigh. It was half-passed 1 a.m., already officially Christmas and no miracle in sight. He turned his back on the clock in annoyance and become even more miserable as the absence in the bed became even more pronounced.

He didn't know how long he lay there, but eventually he finally fell asleep staring into the shadowed emptiness of the empty bed space beside him, but he found no comfort in REM sleep, only terror.

Stefan was running in the darkness, breathless, haggard, trying to reach the light in the distance. He was getting closer, he was sure, close enough to distinguish the 2 silhouettes that he immediately recognized, but no matter how hard he pushed himself, he never got close enough to see their expressions; whether they were wanting of him to arrive or disdained for it. But no matter how hard he ran, how loud he called their names, how far he reached out towards them, they were ever distant. Until large, glinting, hypnotic, lapis lazuli blue eyes blinked open in the darkness beneath him. The pupils of one of the eyes expanded and with a scream, Stefan found himself falling, swallowed, plunging into blackness.

He jerked awake in bed, swallowing convulsively against his sore throat, to the chimes of his cell phone. He licked his lips, still trying to shake off the nightmare as he checked his phone. Merry Christmas texts from both Bonnie and Elena. He ran a hand over his face, wiping away the nightmare sweats as he thumbed through them, texting back his own Merry Christmases, attaching a pic of Salvatore’s Christmas decorated bowl to Bonnie and the picture he'd gotten of Damon with the tree, candy cane hanging out of his mouth, to Elena. Elena sent him a picture of a snowman, that could be no taller than a water bottle if the old tobacco pipe he had was any indication, his eyes looked to be made of chocolate chips, his buttons, too. With a peeled and shaped baby carrot nose, a scarf made from tinsel, and a black little mitten on his head for a stove pipe hat. Stefan could recognize her hand at the edge, giving a thumb's up. He couldn't help but chuckle.

how long did that take you?

don't ask

it's cute. where'd you get the pipe? it looks old

it was in the box with the stuff from my dad's office

txt me later if you survive the turkey lol

ha ha we can't all be gourmet chefs

see you on the other side then

Stefan threw the blanket off and got out of bed, only to sit back heavily on the edge with a quiet curse as his foot throbbed. He actually forgot about it for a moment. He stood up more carefully and limped to his window, pulling open the thick curtains and had to blink at the brightness of not only the morning sun, but also the layer of white snow that covered everything. Maybe there was a Christmas Miracle, just the 1 he wasn't hoping for, a White Christmas. It was a thin layer, Elena miniature Frosty making more sense. He stared out the window for a minute longer before dropping his arms and going to the bathroom. It was a quarter after 9 and he had a busy day ahead of him with the turkey and how to get back into Damon's good-graces. He fed Salvatore and dressed, putting on a festive pullover sweater with a large depiction of Rudolph on the front with the other reindeer and sled, trailing behind, in the distance, wrapped around the side.

He felt a little stiff so he did a few stretches before he went to the kitchen. To his current relief but growing anxiety, hunger still eluded him. The aroma of the coffee smelled delicious as he poured it and he just spent a minute standing there at the counter, his face buried in the mug. He didn't bother with the taint of cream and took a careful, hesitant sip of the hot liquid; the last thing he needed was to spill all over himself. To the relief of himself and his caffeine addiction (that had come in a lot more useful now that he was human) there was no visceral reaction like there had been the day before. He took that as a good sign and finished the cup, refilling it before he got to work.

He took out all the immediate cookware that he needed for the turkey and stuffing and grabbed the apron from the hook on the pantry door, and pushed his sweater sleeves up to his elbows.

He took a butcher knife to the plastic wrap on the turkey and removed the giblet pouch from the thawed cavity, to make the stock for the stuffing and put the bird in the roasting pan with water. While the giblets simmered, he cubed the loaf of bread and toasted them in the oven as he chopped the onion, celery, and mushroom. He sautéed the chopped vegetables and fungi in a saucepan with butter, then mixed in the toasted cubes, added an egg, and enough of the strained stock to moisten but not mush the bread. He added leftover chopped pecans, pepper, salt, thyme, and sage. While the stuffing was still warm, he loosely stuffed the turkey cavity and with a lid on the pan, put the turkey in the oven. Stefan set aside the remaining giblet stock for the gravy to use with the turkey drippings, and he prepped a few of the more time consuming tasks like peeling the potatoes, yams, carrots and butternut squash so he wouldn't be in such a rush near the finish line in trying to cook five vastly different dishes.

Cooking was good, it kept him busy but wasn't rote enough to let his mind wander and stress out, least he cut or burn himself, but all too soon, prep and clean-up was finished and Stefan was left without distraction.

He poured the last dregs of coffee from the pot into his mug and this time went to the fridge for the creamer, only to pause as he spotted the jug of eggnog. Worrying his bottom lip in a moment of contemplation, he abandoned the cream for his coffee and instead reached for the eggnog. Stefan sat on a stool at the island counter, a tall glass and the jug of eggnog sitting in front of him. The last time he'd tried eggnog (yesterday) even just the tablespoon's worth, he'd barely suppressed the gag; but the last time he drank it, the day before _that_ without the hindrance of vampire blood and before the hindrance of his surprise allergy to nutmeg, the drink had been delicious.

He only poured the glass a quarter full and slowly swirled the creamy beverage around in the glass before he rose it to his lips. He wondered what it was about the vampire blood that made his body reject all other consumption of food, but seeing as he could drink the coffee without qualm, he figured the vampire blood was finally running its course and if anything, the alcohol could only be a bonus to him at this point.

He took a swallow, then another and another, polishing off the glass. He could taste the allspice and under that, the cut bourbon. He set the glass down with satisfaction and refilled it. He didn't think trying to eat something would be a very god idea if he wasn't actually feeling the hunger, he didn't want to risk it. Hopefully, it would keep itself at bay until it was turkey time, now that would be a miracle. Even though he was dreading the return, it would be better for everyone in the long run.

"Merry Christmas," Alaric came in, wearing a simple, plain, vibrant red pullover wool sweater with a collared shirt beneath, there wasn’t some crazy Christmas speckle adorning it like Stefan's but he still found it very eye-catching on the teacher. Alaric came behind the teen, hands on his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his styled crown.

Stefan gave a small smile and leaned back against the dirty-blond's chest. "Merry Christmas."

Alaric gently massaged his shoulders. "You're feeling better?" he questioned quietly, gaze flickering to his glass. "You eat yet?"

"Not quite there yet, but this is a start."

Alaric gave a deep nod and didn't push it. "I like your sweater. Definitely better than mine."

"I had to psych myself into the holiday spirit somehow—the eggnog also helped a bit."

"A bit early, isn't it?" he teased.

"I forgot to set my alarm so I woke up a bit late." Stefan was purposefully obtuse. "The turkey hasn't even been in for 2 hours."

"I meant the eggnog," he went over to the counter and set a new pot to brew.

"Oh," he gave a dry chuckle. "Holidays and alcohol kind of go hand-in-hand, don't you think? Along with family drama and disillusionment." He drained the rest of the glass and started to refill. "Maybe it would be easier if I just went straight for the hard stuff..." he stopped pouring and resealed the jug. "You sure it was the sanest idea to want to spend Christmas with Damon and I?" he questioned as he stood from the stool and returned the eggnog to the fridge.

"Probably not." Alaric agreed wryly. "But I love you, so I figured I gotta love your brother somehow, too—or at least learn to tolerate him, no time better than the holidays, I think."

He shut the fridge door. "Ah, yes. This really ought to test your mettle. You're doing great so far, I, on the other hand... failing miserably."

"Hey," Alaric put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him around. "The Stefan Salvatore I know doesn't just throw in the towel that easy."

"I'm not." Stefan scoffed, "But it's not like I can very well do anything when he's not even here!" he flung his arm out and took a bitter satisfaction in the confirmation on Alaric's face. "Yeah, didn't even have to look for his car to know that one, at least. It's friggin Christmas and he just leaves without a word, it's typical." He said that, but really, there was nothing 'typical' about Damon Salvatore. He let you get complacent, let you think you knew him, knew exactly what he was going to do but 9 times out of 10 you would be utterly wrong. Half the time Stefan was sure that Damon didn't even know what he would really do until the final strike of the clock.

"He's giving you what he thinks you want," Alaric found himself defending the other vampire. "Even if he's taking it way out of proportion. He just needs to cool off."

"I know." He said quietly. "Extreme is 1 of Damon's various middle names, and he doesn't do things by halves, it's not worth his effort. He's either in with you or you're as insignificant as his walking meals." He thumped his forehead against Alaric's shoulder with a sad sigh.

"He'll be back," Alaric assured, rubbing his back. "He always comes back, doesn't he?"

Stefan nodded against him. "That's something I can always count on, no matter how angry he is or how much he hates me, Damon comes back—eventually. I just don't think I can go 3 decades of separation, this time around."

"I'll hunt him down myself if it comes to that." Alaric promised, gently squeezing his nape.

"If he's not back by the time the turkey is finished, I'm calling in the big guns." He hated to have to ruin Bonnie's Christmas with her Grams, but he wasn't just going to stand there and watch Damon leave this time, those times were over. "I have an idea!" Stefan suddenly declared, raising his head.

"Christmas Joy?" Alaric wondered.

Stefan nodded with a little smile. "Yep and it'll be a wonderful time to use your present."

"Oh?" his tone left his assumption clear as day, if the hungry look he gave the teen didn't show it clear enough.

Stefan gave him an unimpressed look. "Yeah, no. I gave you ample opportunity last night but you made me go to bed instead—alone."

"I was trying to be responsible," Alaric pursed his lips into a pouty-frown and Stefan felt compelled to kiss it away, to the vampire's delight.

"While that was deeply enjoyable, still not what I had in mind." Stefan took his hand, his left entwining with the teacher's right. His trot was slightly uneven as he backed from the kitchen and down the front hall under the lighted garland arches, Alaric following after him like he was attached with a string; the alcohol from the eggnog was definitely doing it's job, fuzzing out the pain.

"Where are we going?"

They halted in the entrance hall. "Shoes and jacket, I'm just going to run upstairs for your present."

"What? Stefan, no--" he started to protest, but Stefan had already managed to scamper up the stairs as if he still possessed vamp-speed, despite his injured foot. He sighed, staring after for a moment, but despite his protests, he slipped on his shoes and jacket anyway; anything to keep Stefan's mind off Damon's absence and in this spirited mood.

A couple minutes later Stefan came back down caring a thin box about 2 inches thick, 10x8 across with a simple, if elegantly tied, thick, deep red, satin bow tied around the box. Balanced on his forearms, Stefan presented him with the box. "Merry Christmas," he whispered.

Alaric stared at him softly. "Thank you."

Stefan chuckled lightly. "You haven't even opened it yet."

"Right." Alaric gave his head a little shake and couldn't help but grin like an excited kid. He pulled the 2 lengths, the loops shrinking through the knot before that came undone as well. After unwrapping it, he looped the satin ribbon over Stefan's head and lifted off the lid, which Stefan took off his hands. He pulled the red and green striped tissue paper back to reveal the midnight blue folded material inside with a his monogrammed initials; the 'A' a soft powder blue, and the 'S' a sage green. His fingertips traced around the letters. "God, that's soft." Alaric sighed.

But that wasn't the only design on it, he pulled it from the box and the scarf unravelled, the 'A' and 'S' went to separate ends of the scarf and he realized it wasn't solid midnight blue, but blended seamlessly into deep forest green. Above the 'A' was an embroidered Hawthorne tree, its roots reaching for the letter. Above the tree were what appeared to be random dots. Midway through the scarf was the infinity symbol. On the other side was more dots in a different pattern, below which was a rose, thorned vines reaching towards the 'S'. "Stefan, this is..."

"Too much?" Stefan asked worriedly.

Alaric shook his head. "Beautiful." He raised his gaze to the teen, who gave a soft smile in return. "How did you do this?"

"I'm glad you think so highly of my skills, Ric, but I'm not even close to this calibre in skill. Of course, the design concept was mine, but the needle work was done at the pleasure of an old German gentleman in New York. The Hawthorne tree represents happiness and hope for the future, and above it is the Aquarius constellation, your star sign."

"I knew it looked familiar," Alaric murmured.

Stefan flashed him a knowing smirk. "You really had no idea, did you? You just thought it was a bunch of random dots."

"Sorry," he looked guilty.

"Don't be, I know you're not the kind of guy who cares about or believes in astrological forecasting."

"I didn't think you were either."

"It's not about ridiculous horoscopes in the paper, this just represents the time of your birth, a symbol."

"This one's different," he indicated the other end of the scarf. "Is this one... yours?"

"Scorpio," Stefan nodded and touched the edge. "And the rose--"

"Is yours," Alaric whispered. "I always wondered, wanted to ask..."

"I got it after '22 when Lexi was trying to break me out of the Ripper. When I finally got clean off human blood in the '30's, I got it to remind me of the past but also as a new beginning, for hope."

"I thought you being a vampire, you would have just healed over it."

"That _is_ true," Stefan told him. "A witch gave it to me. Lexi knew of a supernaturally inclined artist in New Orleans—it's like a hub for the supernatural, and a place I ordinarily avoided—but the witch did a preservation spell on the ink so my healing abilities wouldn't automatically start to heal over the design." What he didn't add, too horrible for the Christmas Spirit, was that he also had to be shot full of vervain to delay his healing to place the tattoo in the first place; the preservation spell was so the ink would last once _under_ the skin.

"That's good to know." Alaric said. "And you don't have to tell me about the infinity symbol. This is us. But, Stef, I can't wear this."

"What are you talking about?" Stefan frowned. "Of course you can. I designed it like this so you _could_. The only people who could make the connection are Damon, Bonnie, and Elena; everyone else will just assume it's your initials. That's the beauty of it—hiding right in plain sight since we can't actually be out to the world."

"I love that idea," he agreed, thumb stroking the soft cashmere. "But I just know, deep in my bones, the first chance the universe gets, I'm gonna spill coffee onto it or something and it'll be ruined."

"Nonsense—I had Bonnie put a preservation spell on it for that very scenario." He delivered with a straight face.

Alaric squinted at him. "I think you're-- you're teasing me, right? That's totally mean; I almost believed you, too." He pouted.

"Relax." He soothed. "If you think about it too much, you're going to end up doing it. Or, better yet, simply stop drinking coffee."

"Ha ha," he laughed sarcastically. "That's not as funny as you think it is!"

"It's pretty funny from where I'm standing," Stefan disagreed. "The look on your face?" he chuckled. "It's cute when you pout, Ric. Now, here," he took the scarf from the vampire, "I got this for purely selfish reasons, a subliminal claim, so you have to wear it."

"When you put it that way," Alaric bit his cheek at the pleasant feelings (and desires) the assertion from the brunette birthed. "Still think it should be hung or something." He mumbled as Stefan wrapped the soft, warm scarf around his neck, front to back so the infinity symbol face the front and the 2 ends came around and back to the front so the entire design showed, laid against the open front of his jacket. "Or you're the 1 that should be wearing it, seeing as you actually need a scarf now."

"Appearances." Stefan stepped back, took a photo with his cell to the man's amusement, before he stepped forward again and buttoned Alaric's jacket, making sure the scarf was tucked in. "There. Oh, 1 more thing," he put his hands on Alaric's shoulders and pushed until the vampire went back 2 steps—and promptly kissed him.

"You had to wait until I was under the mistletoe before you kissed me?" he questioned in mild amusement.

Stefan shrugged. "Who am I to snub tradition?"

Alaric huff a laughed. "So, what exactly are we doing outside?" he queried as Stefan pulled on his buckled boots and slipped on his coat.

"It snowed. Elena made a snowman."

"She did? Did she use snow from her entire neighbourhood?"

"Here, I'll show you. She sent me a picture." Stefan retrieved his cell from his back pocket and showed him the picture.

Alaric let out a surprised chuckle. "That's-- that's pretty damn cute, I gotta admit." Stefan put his phone away in his jacket with a smirk. "But, Stef, no way is there enough snow left out there to make even a baby Frosty."

"That's okay because we're not making a snowman," he took Alaric's hand and pulled him out the front door. He stepped off the porch to the short walk to survey his prospects, ignoring the half-melted tire tracks of Damon's absent Chevy Camaro convertible. The snow was patchy in the drive, but that wasn't the appropriate place, the frame of snow-covered grass _around_ the drive before it met woods, on the other hand, was. Stefan pulled the teacher along.

"If you don't want to make a snowman, then what?"

Stefan turned to him and grasped his other hand. "Snow angels." He mimed their arms in a sweeping motion to get the point across.

Alaric shook his head. "The last thing you need to be doing is rolling around in the snow." Stefan pouted. "Better more, that's the last thing _I_ need."

"Don't be a spoil sport." Without warning, Stefan fell backwards, his hands slipping from Alaric's.

With a wordless shout, undead heart jumping in his throat, the bampi just reacted, vamp-speed blur his appearance as he lunged forward, arms wrapped around Stefan's torso, the ball of his shoe turning in the wet snow and he thumped onto the hard ground with an 'oof!', Stefan a unharmed weight on top of him. A weight that was trembling. "Stefan?" Alaric raised his head, but all he could see was the brunette's crown with Stefan's face buried in his jacket. Did he have another episode? Were the headaches back? ' _I'm dying and you don't even know it.'_ Stefan's toneless voice sounded in his head again.

But before he could externalize those worries and fear, Stefan's head suddenly reared back with a huge intake of breath and the giggles he'd been attempting to suppress burst out in peels of laughter. Every taught muscle in the bampi melted like butter and he slumped back against the wet ground. A small smile quirked the corners of his lips as he watched as the curtain of Stefan's face shifted and transformed into something else; as what Damon called his resting-brood-face at this moment, was overtaken by thrill and if for this one moment, the past 146 years were forgotten and it was just the 2 of them. Stefan finally slumped back down against Alaric, gasping for breath, his green eyes bright from laughter, his teeth still showing through his wide smile. Alaric wasn't joking when he told Elena Stefan didn't smile enough.

"That was exciting!"

"What if I hadn't caught you?"

Stefan propped his chin on his folded arms on Alaric's chest. "I knew you would. And now that we're both down here... We might as well make an angel together."

"Your master plan, revealed." Alaric teased. "You seduced me into it."

"Doing what exactly?" he asked in mild amusement. "You have to tell me so I can use it in the future."

Alaric stroked his jaw line. "Your laugh." He murmured seriously. "It's been too long since I've heard a real one like that."

Stefan gave him a soft smile. "Well, you make me happy enough to do it." He turned his head and kissed the heel of the dirty-blond's palm under his thumb.

"So, you said something about a snow angel?"

"I did." Stefan pressed a peck to his lips then pushed himself up using Alaric shoulders and was left straddling the vampire's waist. "So, come on—spread 'em, Saltzman." He clapped Alaric's thigh behind him. "You know you want to." Stefan reached into his pocket and took out his cell, putting it on video mode, he held it high above. "For the camera?" Alaric continued to stare up at him, his expression deadpan even as his blue eyes sparkled with amusement, his fingers drumming lightly on Stefan's thighs. "Then do it for Christmas Joy, Ric. Feel the joy," Stefan dug his finger just right into his ribs and Alaric let out a bark of laughter as his ticklish spot was struck through his jacket.

"Okay! Alright. I'll do it for your Christmas Joy. Just no tickling," he rose a warning finger to the teen through the phone.

Stefan gave a triumphant smile and stroked the bridge of the teacher's nose playfully. "You love my tickles."

"Naked tickling is a whole different ballpark," Alaric informed him and Stefan chuckled.

"We can do that, too." Stefan tempted.

"Nice try." Alaric straightened under the brunette. "Okay." He did 1 stroke up, 1 stroke down, both arms and legs. "And I'm at grass."

"I'll take it." Stefan got to his feet, Alaric still under him and zoomed out with the phone to get a better look at the grass-angel. "As charming and mysterious as its maker."

"I guess the sexy just rubbed off." Alaric sat up and pressed a kiss to the top of Stefan's thigh. "My turn for Christmas Joy." He glanced up through the space between Stefan's arms.

Stefan wiggled his thick brows. "Whatever you want." He only had a second to regret the words at the wicked grin that flashed amid stubble before, with another show of vampire strength, speed, and agility, Alaric wrapped 1 arm around his hips and the other grabbed the hand holding his cell phone. For 2 second it felt like Stefan was in a tornado before he was suddenly looking up at Alaric, breathless, staring into the back of his cell.

"You're lucky I like roller coasters, otherwise I don't think you'd look so happy." Stefan reached up for his cell but Alaric rose his hand out of reach. "No fair."

"You got the camera out, this is the consequence." Alaric told him haughtily. Stefan stuck his tongue out childishly and wrapped his arms around his face. "Uh-uh, none of that." Alaric admonished. "Fair is fair, Stefan." He stuck his cold hand up under the hem of his coat and Rudolph sweater.

Stefan gave an indignant squeak at the cold hand and his arms tore from his face, grabbing Alaric's hand through his coat, stilling it before it could do anything nefarious like tickle him. "No tickling! Your hand's cold," he protested.

"God, you're so warm." Alaric murmured, his palm and fingers flattening against his skin as Stefan released his hand and watched as his eyelids drooped to half-mast and seemed to zone out into another world, or as Stefan better knew from experience— _into_ another world—Stefan's cell forgotten in his hand.

Stefan remembered what that was like. As a vampire, when you maintained a steady diet of human blood, especially _warm_ blood from the vein, you were able to sustain a body temp that was moderately close to a human's. Like a cold-blooded reptile, vampires also sought the outside source of warmth. Unlike reptiles, vampires were hardly able to get the same results of gaining warmth from the surroundings like laying in a patch of sun on a heated rock. Of course, standing by the lit fireplace maintained the ruse of warmth, but that warmth didn't linger once away from the source, so vampires needed to _consume_ their warmth. And in comparison, hot coffee and microwaved blood bags really were a poor substitute for fresh, warm lifeblood from the source—that was the true warmth of a vampire. A living thing consumed, it was one of the only ways for a vampire to truly feel alive in their undead state. And Stefan knew better than to try and snap the vampire out of the zone for the serious repercussion of possible getting his throat torn out.

Alaric's hand twitched against his skin and his palm pressed against the warmth flesh and started to migrate towards the hearth. Stefan arms fanned through the wet snow and the colour in his tan cheeks had nothing to do the cool nip in the air or the mild activity of his arms that stopped rather fast, but the touch of the teacher. It wasn't even a sexual touch, it was just because it was Alaric. He never had _this_ before, a real relationship, a boyfriend.

He had Damon, his brother. He had Lexi, his best-friend. His longest sexual relationship before now had been Katherine; he actually thought the same might be said for Damon, which was sad on both their accounts, but it just went to show how much Katherine Pierce fucked the Salvatore Brothers up. But she was gone now, out of their lives and they could finally start new, fresh. Stefan really needed to talk to Damon.

Stefan couldn't help the little puff of air as Alaric's hand finally came to rest over his heart; his coat and sweater ridden up to reveal most of his abdomen. It picked up a little as he watched the veins darken and pulse under Alaric's hooded eyes, could see the swirl of red flood the slits of white and darken his blue irises. A breathless grunt was forced from him when Alaric suddenly leaned his weight onto his arm, as if he could be absorbed through Stefan's breastbone and nest into the warmth.

If Alaric reacted this way to just touching his skin, Stefan was sure the vampire would never let him out of bed once they had penetrative sex. He couldn't help the huge grin that split his face at the thought, nor the chortle. He may have been the 'quiet' one, the 'shy' one, the 'romantic' one between he and Damon growing up; worked to make father proud, tried to make mother smile, but as was clear with his loss of virginity in a hay wagon and his affair with Katherine, despite having to develop feelings for the women before he felt it proper to make such bold moves (like having to confess his love to Katherine before even kissing her for the first time after the Founder's Ball) he was still a horny teenage boy whose mind will inevitably circle around to sex at one point or another despite being raised in the time of gentlemen.

Alaric's vision cleared from 1 blink to the next, blue gaze darting to take in the scene; Stefan under him, his hand shoved under his coat and sweater. Alaric pulled his hand out and pulled the clothing back down, his other hand awkward with Stefan's cell. "What happened?" he shifted back.

"Sorry." Stefan waved a hand, sniggering. "My mind wondered and I was thinking about sex."

"What?" Alaric questioned in amused confusion.

Stefan sat up. "You zoned out for a few minutes—actually, it was more like zoned _in._ " He explained.

Alaric stared at him for a moment, noting Stefan's unconcern fighting against his own concern before his gaze dropped. "Here?" he laid his free hand on Stefan's chest.

"Yeah." Stefan laid his hand over his and his other took his phone from unresisting fingers.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I know how hard it is, especially as a new vampire, to resist the pull of a person's heartbeat. You're only a month old, Ric. It's a habit that'll still be there when you're 150, trust me."

Alaric nodded slowly after a moment. "I missed your snow angel." He whispered, noticing the melted boarder around them.

"It was recorded. Even out of it, you're 1 heck of a cameraman." He smirked.

"You should delete it. What if someone gets a hold of your phone?"

"Oh, trust me." Stefan looked up from were he was saving the video into his locked folder. "No one is going to be seeing it but me." The password was a series of numbers and letters, both capitals and lowercase made up of 30 characters burned into his memory, so anyone, not even Damon, could access it. "You don't have to worry about Damon seeing it either."

"Didn't Damon put that app on your phone?"

Stefan shrugged. "Sure. He just has to put in the simple 4 digit number password to unlock my phone, which I haven't changed, but he's not going to be able to get into this folder."

"Okay. I trust you to outsmart a nosey-Damon."

"I will take that vote of confidence," he said drily. "Now pull me up? My butt is wet and cold."

Alaric chuckled but rose to his feet and pulled the teen up after him. "The last thing we want is for you to turn into an assicle."

Stefan snorted. "Good adjective and apt description. It does, in fact, feel like an assicle." He told the dirty-blond with a straight face, making him laugh as they walked back toward the Boarding House.

After changing to dry pants and washing up, Stefan sent Alaric to the wine cellar to get the bottle of white he needed for the butternut squash gratin he wanted to make, and that it would probably be good to drink a bag of blood while he was down there after his zone-in if he wasn't going to feed from Stefan.

Stefan opened the oven and pulled out the low rack with oven mitts. He took off the roast pan's lid to baste the turkey when a delicious, pure cloud straight from the source wafted moistly into his face. It was like all his food fantasies come true and he nearly did a nosedive into the bird in ecstasy, only to have the first hunger pang in the last 43 hours twinge painfully in his gut; the delicate barrier keeping it contained shattering at the mouth-watering scent of the roasting turkey and stuffing.

With a slightly shaking hand, Stefan basted the turkey and put a few onions in the water before he replaced the pan lid and pushed the rack back in. He calmly closed the oven door and stepped back to lean back against the edge of the island counter. This was the moment he'd been anxiously waiting for the moment he realized he didn't feel hunger after drinking Damon's blood.

He tried to take calming breaths, but they only partly worked as he inhaled the appetizingly perfumed air, enticing his own hunger. But, this was it. Stefan was starting fresh, and what moment was better than now instead of waiting 6 more days for the New Year?

He'd dealt with devastating hunger before, for the past 145 years to be exact, he'd had control over his appetite for the past 74 years. He'd fallen off the wagon before, he'd got back on before. The difference now was that there was no Lexi to keep him in line and trying to sate his unending hunger this time around didn't include heads literally rolling, but that wasn't reason to indulge like he had been for the past month, which garnered him no positive results. No, he needed to go about this differently this time around. He stopped rejecting the new-old condition of his body, and now he needed to come up with a new game plan when it cam to his hunger. He needed to control and resist and pace, just like he had as a vampire on the wagon of animal blood. Maybe that had been the problem. He kept comparing this hunger to that of when he was a vampire, but with the clause that he wasn't killing anyone if he lost control, so why the hell should he restrict himself? He needed to give himself limits, boundaries, to contain himself as before.

So this would be a good moment to test his own mettle. The turkey had about 3 more hours to cook, and in the meantime he had several conviction testing tasks to do in the meantime: the butternut squash gratin, the brown sugar and bacon fried veggies, browned butter smashed potato with butternut squash, sweet yam dish, cranberry sauce with raspberry vinegar, the gravy, and devilled eggs. He may have cheated a bit with store bought bread rolls, but technically they were handmade fresh from the bakery in town so he didn't feel too bad about it.

Deeming himself stable and steady again, he pushed from the island and got out the tray, and like a couple weeks ago, he used it to carry the plates, side saucers, silverware, water and wineglasses to the dinning room. The issue he didn't foresee until he was standing in front of the closed sliding doors was that this was the **dinning room**.

The 1 that Damon compelled him away from. It had almost seemed like he'd tacked it on there as an afterthought before he broke the compulsion (' _oh, and avoid the dinning room for a while_.') and yet somehow, it was the piece of compulsion that had been the strongest. Even now, standing here, staring at those closed doors, it almost felt like he was a kid again, sneaking into his father's office which was off limits to both he and Damon, making his hands clammy. It wasn’t the blaring klaxons screaming DO NOT GO IN THERE—AVOID, but there was still a little red warning light lit in the back of his brain.

Stefan squeezed his eyes closed. He gave his head a little shake. What constituted 'for a while'? It had almost been 3 weeks, surely that was enough time for Damon to clean up his mess. It had been like a fuzzy, out-of-body experience, there had been no conscious thought, just the override of emotional turmoil that ravaged through him. He had the habit of fussing over and tending to _other_ peoples emotions, pushing his own back and out of the way, leave his own to grow unattended and wild, to explode at the most inconvenient moments as was seen in recent history.

"You can stop with the act now," Damon suddenly said in his ear, making Stefan jolt, his eyes snapping open, the dishes clattered on the tray as he jerked around. "In case you forgot, I know compulsion doesn't work on you."

The inch lip prevented the plates from skidding off the tray and smashing to the floor, but 1 of the wineglasses over balance in the kerfuffle. Damon saw it, could have easily reached it, not even having to use his vamp-speed to right it, but thought it was more amusing to watch. It was too late to course correct it with the tray, Stefan would just end up spilling the whole lot, so he right foot shot out, instinctively trying to cushion it from hitting the floor and prevent it from shattering. You wouldn't think a wineglass would hurt, a drinking glass, sure, a plate, definitely, you would be wrong. There was a faint reverberation as the goblet hit the arch of the top of his socked foot, eliciting a sharp pain, but at least when it fell to the floor, rolling in uneven circles with stem and came to a stop against the moulding at the bottom of the wall it was unsheltered.

"You could have caught that." Stefan gave a sharp exhale and leaned back against the doors behind him for balance, a slight grimace on his face as he stared at his brother.

"But this way was more fun," he countered.

"And I wasn't acting." Stefan added.

"Agreed. You suck. But seeing as we're family, I'll give you 'C' for effort." Damon mimed the letter. "Minus," he added.

"Damon, please--"

"Please, what, brother?" he mocked.

"You're being petty!" Stefan protested in frustration. He paused and took a breath, the last thing he needed was a repeat of yesterday where he let his frustrations override everything else. "Can we just forget about last night? I didn't mean to hurt you, Damon. I just got overwhelmed with it all, it was just too much and I snapped."

Damon sighed. "You're right," he agreed solemnly. "Let me make it up to you." Stefan looked at him with genuine surprise but it quickly turned as his brother continued with a devious smirk, "And open theses doors for you?" his palms slammed against the wood on either side of Stefan's head.

"No!" Stefan eyes widened, but it was too late; Damon was already pulling the doors open apart behind him and the brunette's support gave way.

Stefan stumbled backward on his injured heel, imbalanced with the tray. He already knew it was too late to try and save himself, and his attempt to prevent himself from being buried in broken dishes, just guaranteed that he would be. Strike 4, how many until he just gave up already? He flinched away at the short crash of dishes, eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the sharp pain to bloom, but he felt a painful jerk instead. Slowly he cracked open his green eyes to find himself starting into Damon's blue ones no more than 5 inches away, his right hand gripping his left shoulder, his left hand fisted into the collar of Damon's shirt.

"Um," Stefan eyes darted around; he had a better view of the ceiling and the top of the wall behind him than anything else. "You caught me."

"What gave it away?" he said dryly.

"Lack of pain," Stefan answered honestly.

"Yeah, well, leave it to you to turn a simple stumble backward into a deathtrap."

Hovering in his left peripheral view Stefan could see the tray held precariously in Damon's right hand, most of the dishes present from what he could see, but askew. That could only mean the rest were shattered beneath him. "Please don't drop me?"

"Don't temp me." Stefan's right injured leg tightened around Damon's thigh in response and Damon smirked at the reaction. His left leg, practically straight between Damon's legs, was a useless prop in help supporting his own weight; that all laid on the vampire with his arm wrapped around the human's lower back. "Where's your boyfriend? He'd been useful right about now for once."

"The wine cellar."

Damon cursed. "Of course, the deepest, darkest bowels of the Salvatore Boarding House. He'll never hear us in there, the walls are too thick, it's sound proof in there." He gave an irate growl. "I'm dropping you."

"No!" Stefan clung, his eyes comically wide to the vampire's amusement.

Damon chuckled. "You're such a drama queen."

"And you're still not funny," He groused.

"You just don't know what funny is," Damon countered.

"Yeah, no. You can drop me," Stefan deadpanned. " _That_ is less painful than what you consider humour."

"Oh, Stefan, going for the cheap shots."

Stefan exhaled and stared at his brother. "Damon--"

Damon knew that expression and tone way too well. "You want to aggravate me while I hold your life in my arms?" he challenged.

"When is that different from any other time?" Stefan pointed out.

"Good point." Damon agreed. He heaved a sigh. "OK. Lay it on me. Give me your best Stefan-spiel."

"I really am sorry, Damon." Stefan whispered sincerely. "I took a really cheap and mean shot at you yesterday that you didn't deserve. I put Katherine on you when the truth is... it was all my fault."

"Stefan," he started.

"No, no." Stefan shook his head. "The first time I met Katherine, it wasn't when she came to stay at the mansion."

"What do you mean?"

Stefan swallowed guiltily. "About a fortnight before, I went for a morning ride. It had rained hard the night before, the roads were bad, and I came across a stuck carriage."

"Which you offered your help," Damon added. "As is your chivalrous nature. It was Katherine, wasn't it?"

Stefan gave a shallow nod. "I didn't know until after."

"You couldn't have. So you unstuck her wagon, and then what?"

"She fed from me." Stefan's gaze dropped from his brother to his hand fisted with the material of Damon's stretched collar. "Compelled me; asked about the town, our home, me, _you_."

Damon's expression was dark. "Emily was there, too, I bet. Didn't lift a finger then either."

"She saved our lives twice, Damon." Stefan sighed. "The look in her eyes was more frightening than Katherine. I signed both our death warrants then and there."

"If the alternative was her killing you then and there, never getting another sappy letter from you, coming home to the news that you were dead... then I'll take the shit storm of the last 146 years with open arms, Stefan." Damon informed him levelly.

Stefan pursed his lips against the swell of emotion in his chest, inhaling deeply through his nose as he stared into his big brother's unwavering blue gaze. "She's always going to hang between us, isn't she?"

"She's _gone_ , Stefan."

"She's too deep inside me to ever be gone," Stefan confessed in a defeated whisper. "We can't keep blaming all our issues and faults on the dead. One day, we're going to have to look in the mirror and look at ourselves for who we truly are. I want to blame Katherine for turning me into that terrible monster, but the Ripper... he didn't just happen overnight. That darkness was always in me, her blood just woke it up."

"No, our bastard of a father did that. You hear me?" Damon gave him a shake that made their position even more precarious, the dishes in the tray clattering with the movement. "You were the brightest, purest thing I'd ever held in my arms, Stefan, until he touched you and fed you his poison."

Stefan couldn't stop the slight grimace as he felt an unexpectedly vicious pang in his abdomen. There was no way that Damon could have possibly missed it. "Muscle spasm," technically, it wasn't a lie. He'd almost forgotten about his building hunger since Damon came back, thoroughly distracted with their peculiar predicament, but he shouldn't have been surprised at how fast it was catching back up to him. He hadn't eaten for 2 days after all and the hunger was catching up to him with a vengeance, making up for lost time. "When you were gone this morning, I thought--"

"Self-important much?" he interrupted. "My world doesn't revolve around you, I had things to do, people to take of."

"Good." Stefan murmured quietly. "That's good." He wondered when the headaches and nosebleeds would return.

He eyes narrowed. "I'm not going anywhere." Damon promised. "And not to put a stopper in this great brother-bonding moment... but I would be more into this if you were a woman and not related to me, but our dicks are just a little too chummy right now and you're starting to get heavy, beefcake, the pain in my back can attest."

Stefan couldn't help but laugh. "For someone who claims to be so glib about seeing me naked more than my own boyfriend, you sure seem uncomfortable now."

"Speaking of Teacher, how long does it take to get a bottle of wine?"

"About 5 minutes." Alaric answered from the dinning room doorway. He stared at them for a moment. "I heard you guys talking and I thought I'd give you some privacy," he cocked his head, amusement in his eyes, "Clearly, I missed something." He stepped in and to the side, getting a better view of exactly what he was looking at; it looked like a really terribly executed tango move where the woman hooked her leg against the man's hip, their pelvises together, the man's arm around the woman's waist as she arched back. Definitely botched.

"Yeah, the mark." Damon said sarcastically.

"Just one thing before I step in..." Alaric took his cell phone from his pocket and snapped a few quick pictures, the brothers staring at him unenthusiastically.

"Yeah, so... I'm going to drop 1 of these 2 things, or perhaps both." Damon informed him. "You can try to guess but I'm sure I'll end up surprising you."

"OK, OK." Alaric put his cell away and quickly unburdened Damon of the tray, setting it on the new replaced rosewood rectangle dinning table. "You should just be happy it wasn't Bonnie who walk in on you." Alaric warned the vampire. Hands at the back of Stefan's shoulder, he pushed both the brothers back up straight and they awkwardly shuffled back from the shattered dishware before releasing each other and stepping back, working out their separate kinks.

"You think I don't know about that little folder on Stefan's phone?" Damon informed them, straightening his wrinkled shirt.

"You might know about it, but you'll never get into it." Stefan returned confidently, twisting his torso left then right.

"I like a challenge," Damon smirked and turned away, heading for the stairs. "It makes things more interesting."

"Wait!" he blurted and Damon actually paused, but didn't turn back around.

"I meant what I said, baby brother. So to take on the Stefan-sentimental-mentality... There's no girl to compete over for attention, it's just the 2 of us again. Our lives can never be like what it was before Evil Vampire Slut compelled her way into our lives, but this time around is different from the last 146 years. I'm not making the same mistakes again and I'm not going to lose you to her a third time."

"That means you're still coming to dinner, right?"

Damon resumed his path. "Who else is going to give you an honest opinion of your cooking? You have sex with him, he's biased." And he disappeared upstairs to Stefan's chuckle.

"Come on," Alaric protested jokingly, his hands on Stefan's shoulders from behind. "It's not biased if it's good."

Stefan leaned back against his chest. "I trust your judgement," he said coyly to the dirty-blond's amusement.

"I'll go get the broom," Alaric pressed a kiss to his hair. "Please don't step on any glass this time." Stefan gave him an unimpressed frown when he sent a smirk over his shoulder before blurring away.

Stefan gave a happy sigh and bit his bottom lip against the splitting smile. It had started out rough as it usually did between them; yelling, violence, emotion, the 3 standard ingredients to the Salvatore Brothers' make up fights. They needed to extinguish the anger, be heard, and explore the crux of the current dispute. But this time was different, this time was real. When Damon gave his word, he kept it. The past 145 years of misery could attest to that. He knew it would never be perfect between them, they were brothers after all, but that just meant there would always be a 'them'. The concept of Christmas Miracle was looking up.

Keeping to the clear space Alaric had left him in, Stefan turned from the door and took in his first view of the new dinning room. Damon hadn't been kidding was he said he was 'decorating' in here. He knew it was the same room, but it didn't look it. Damon didn't just replace the things Stefan had smashed, he redesigned the room, the colours, the texture of the room, modernized it but still kept with the character of the rest of the house. If Damon ever truly cared to re-enter society, he had definite potential as an interior designer. Damon had always adopted the fashions of the passing decades better than Stefan (the recluse) with his ability to fit in with any crowd he chose.

The previous oval cherry wood table was replaced with a large, rectangular rosewood table with ornate designs carved into the legs and side boarder that seated 10. The chairs arranged around the 2 length-sides, 4 on each, were upholders in cream, contrasting the other dark colours that shaded the room. The remaining 2 at either head of the table were armed. The sideboard was adorned with crystal decanters and tumbler glasses arrange tastefully on a runner on the flat top. The china closet with stained glass windows in the cabinet doors similar to the ones in the parlor that faced the front of the house, but the boarder was of clear glass.

As Alaric returned and swept up the glass, Stefan made his way to the fireplace, his fingertips tracing the backs of the chairs. The pit was set up, but dark as he realized when he knelt in front and moved away the screen. He pulled a long match from the holder on the mantle and ignited it with a quick draw against the brick, he lit the kindle below the logs and after brief encouragement watched as the flames took hold. He tossed the used match into the flames before he replaced the screen and rose.

After a perusal of the sideboard where the linens for the table, cloth napkins, extra candles and regular matches were stored, Alaric helped him set the table with what was left of the dishes on the tray at 1 end. He filled the empty tray back up with dishes from the china closet like the gravy boat and another sauce dish for the cranberry sauce, and other serving dishes for things like the devilled eggs, pickles, and cheese to take back into the kitchen. It was counting down to crunch times as a pot of water was set to boil on the stove for the remaining half-dozen eggs left in the carton that Stefan left to task for Alaric as he started to prep the other dishes, mentally organising the tight schedule of what needed a burner and for how long, shuffling it all around in his head as he chopped, measured, and grated. If only life could be as easily scheduled and organized; but with Alaric doing the devilled eggs and the other sides, it gave Stefan just an inch of wiggle room to get everything cooked and hot in the same window to be served.

But as time progressed, it wasn't the armload of tasks or his attention split 10 different ways, 12 different clocks rapidly counting down in Stefan's brain that was making him antsy and biting back whimpers and choking himself against the thin leash of control, it was the sweet, delicious, savoury scents of cooking food. It had been painful in the dinning room with Damon, but in the kitchen, it was unadulterated torture. He didn't want to go there, just that it felt like an Alien was trying to tear out through his stomach. He either needed to cry and curl up or simply give into grabbing a handful of bacon out of the hot, grease-filled pan.

And then, blessedly, it was time. The dinning table swamped with enough food to feed occupants of all 10 chairs, but there was just 1 that needed this beyond all others.

Damon stood at his place at the head of the table, as head of the Salvatore family, the turkey platter in front of him, a carving knife in 1 hand, a 2-pronged carving fork in the other. "Stefan, you need to ask yourself one very important question in this moment..." Damon informed the teen intensely. "Dark meat or white?" he grinned.

"Both," Stefan told him firmly from his right. "And don't be skimpy with it," he warned, holding out his plate. "This is a 10 pound turkey and I haven't eaten in two days, so I don't need judgement from either of you for what you're about to witness." He looked across at Alaric who sat Damon's left.

"Relax," Damon told him. "You can always have seconds." But cut into the turkey at the look in his green eyes and started a pile on Stefan's plate. "Ric?"

"Dark, thanks." The teacher said, holding up his own plate. Damon cut white for himself and sat and the 3 passed around the other dishes, serving themselves.

Stefan literally could not stop the groaned whimper from leaving him at that first bite. It had nothing to do with how good it tasted (which was awesome), but swallowing it, the feel of something finally in the bottomless hollow of his stomach. He didn't notice the fast look exchanged by the vampires hunched over his plate, not that he would of had the capacity to care if he had, not in this moment as he continued to eat. They weren't even halfway finished their first serving, before Stefan was already dishing up his second.

"Stef, slow down before you make yourself sick." Alaric finally warned in worry.

Stefan did slow, but only a tad as there was barely a pause between plating and consuming. By the time he was finishing this serving, that full switch should trip. That had been the 1 tolerable thing about his human hunger v. his vampire hunger; that blip of fullness that gave him a respite from the painful hunger, however short. Despite his continued hunger, his human stomach could only hold so much, it was basic law, unlike his vampiric digestive tract with its blood diet and dark magic enhancements. But to his growing desperation, it never came.

He picked apart a bread roll, his mind racing. Why wasn't it happening? Did the vampire blood screw with the trigger? Maybe he just needed something other than savoury, he usually had a low tolerance for sweet things, so maybe that would prompt it.

"Pie!" Stefan suddenly declared, standing from his chair and started both vampires. Before they could say anything, he was already striding from the room, desperation fuelling him—only he never made it. He stopped short, hand braced against the wall as sickening dizziness swamped him, a terrible cramp ripping through his stomach that had him doubling over in pain, unable to breath for a long frightening moment before he was able to suck in a sharp gasp of breath. He bolted to the bathroom, the door shut behind him, just able to get the seat up before he projectile vomited, his stomach muscles spasming forcefully.

He was left gasping, sweat beaded on his upper lip and at his temples as involuntary retches seized his frame for a minute before he was able to lower the lid and flush. He was a little shaky as he stood at the sink, rinsing his mouth and splashing cool water on his face. There had been zero time for the food to digest and even as he stood there patting his face dry with a towel, the hunger was there. So Stefan simply continued on his journey to the kitchen from the bathroom.

He took the 3 wrapped pies from the fridge and put the apple and pumpkin in the oven to warm up. The pecan didn't make it that far, not with a stray fork from the counter finding its way into Stefan's hand, his hunger driving the unconscious action despite just having been violently sick.

The last time he could remember either him and Damon puking vividly was Thanksgiving 1851. Damon had a pet turkey he called Sammy, Giuseppe thought it made his son soft-hearted and weak, so he'd killed the turkey and gave it to the cook, forcing both boys to eat their fill of Sammy otherwise the consequences would be far worse. Once Giuseppe excused them from the table (after cleaning his own plate in a sedated pace, polishing off goblets of brandy and puffing on a cigar), Damon grabbed Stef and ran upstairs, both forcefully sick of whatever was left that hadn't been digested. From then on, the only living thing Damon had allowed himself to get attached to was Stefan, because surely for all the monster that their father was, he could not murder his sons. If only that had been the truth.

He was pulled from the memory by the brush of lips and stubble on his cheek. "Oh, hey." He said around the fork; the pie was sweet and gooey, with the soft crunch of pecans and the crust to help add texture.

"You were taking a while so I came to see what was keeping you," Alaric informed him in amusement, his hand leaning on the counter. "Now I know."

Stefan glanced at the pie on the counter in front of him. "I got distracted." The frown of guilt at the corner of his mouth had nothing to do with fact that he'd was already halfway through the pastry, but other more life-altering secrets he was hiding behind securely closed doors. Clearly the vampire blood really hadn't fixed anything, it was just the high before the fall.

"That I can see." Alaric smiled, his thumb pad brushed the corner of his mouth and Stefan's tongue automatically chased after it. "Dinner was amazing, Stef. I honestly don't know how you did it. Better than my nana's and she had the touch."

Stefan a smile, picking at a whole pecan in the filling with his fork prongs. "It's nice to actually have people to cook for."

"I wish I was human again, even if for just the last 20 minutes so I could have appreciated it all the more."

Stefan looked up. "Just because you're a vampire, doesn't mean it can’t hold the same appreciation, if anything, you'll have a better time experiencing the flavours."

"Yeah, but nothing can compete against an elastic waistband, stuffed stomach and food coma of the holidays." Alaric sighed fondly at past remembrance, his arms wrapped loosely around Stefan’s shoulders. "But I'm glad you get to have that this year."

"Yeah," Stefan laid his head against the vampire's chest so he wouldn't see his faltered expression. He hadn't eaten enough to overstuff himself and cause him to vomit. 2 plates was not overeating in a regular man his size. He'd eaten twice as much as he had tonight in other sittings and never once did he feel uncomfortably stuffed. The vampire blood had stopped his hunger completely and had literally disallowed him from consuming anything. Now, free of vampire blood, the hunger was back stronger than before and he was lulled into a false sense of security with his body's allowance of food, only for his body to reject it afterward.

The timer he set on the oven went off and Stefan straightened, but Alaric was the one the donned the oven mitts. "I got it, don't want to intrude on your snack."

Stefan glanced at the empty glass dish, licking his fork. "You're not." He put the fork in the dish and turned his attention towards the oven, shutting the door when Alaric backed away with a pie in either hand and turning it off.

"So, is this like a pie-each situation or what?" Alaric teased on the way down the hall.

"Not funny," Stefan told him, carrying the eggnog jug as he followed. He wondered if throwing up had been a one-time occurrence, or if it simply was a thing of timing. He had literally still been chewing his last bite as he loaded his second serving, so the only true pause had been after he decided that he needed pie as he finished the bread roll. That meant that it was immediately after. So it didn't matter _how_ _much_ he ate, just that he ate... how long had it been since he'd finished the pie? "Here," Stefan stopped the vampire and tugged the jug against his chest.

"What are you doing?"

"I have to go to the bathroom." He was right and he was lucky, that same sick spell of dizziness took him as he shut the bathroom door, then the terrible stomach cramp. The fan automatically came on with the light switch and he double over the toilet. He went through the same process as before, but rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash as well as water this times around. He wondered how long he was going to be able to keep this from the vampires. Puking was a whole different cover-up than headaches and nosebleeds that only held the secrecy of their frequency. He closed his eyes with his exhale of exhaustion, it probably wasn't going to be long, but he just really needed this Christmas. "Both." Stefan promptly informed his brother on his return, holding out a clean plate.

He rolled his eyes. "Wasn't there pecan pie?" Damon asked, giving Stefan a quarter of each pie.

"Uh, no," Stefan shot a look across at Alaric's amused expression. "Just the apple and pumpkin." He pushed in, pouring himself a glass of eggnog. This time, he really did pace his bites. If he didn't scarf it down as he was desperate to do and paced himself, perhaps he could last longer without throwing up, give him time to digest.

Savouring his last bite of pie, Stefan cut open the last remaining roll from the basket and stuffed a chunk of light turkey meat in it. He munched on that as they all took their share of dishes and food back to the kitchen. Stefan kept picking at things and eating them as they packed everything up into containers and stowed them in the fridge. His working theory: as long as he kept eating, there would be no throwing up. The frequency of his hunger didn't ebb, but the mind set at the action of eating helped to diminish his desperation emotionally because he was acting, doing something even if the something really did nothing for him.

Somehow, he managed to keep up a steady stream of food without actually serving himself another plate of the now leftovers. The fridge packed, the dishwasher and sink full, he once again was able to make it to the bathroom, turning on the tap for extra obscuring noise. This time, the brunette was able to time it. Ready and awaiting at the toilet as the mental clock struck 62 Mississippi’s—roughly 1 minute and 56 seconds. It wasn't entirely conclusive, he had no other times to compare it to, but it gave him a ballpark to hit within after eating. It was more than he had before and it helped make him feel as if he had things under control despite the fact that it was _his_ body that was the dissenter in the situation.

Stefan sprayed the air freshener and brushed his teeth. He did a few tweaks to the flagging strands of gelled hair due to perspiration weight and left the downstairs half-bath. He patted his pockets and realized he must have left his cell in his coat pocket so he went to the front hall where he left it hanging on the rack. He scrolled through some missed texts from Elena giving the all-clear that the Gilbert household hadn't been wiped out from salmonella, causing him to chuckle lightly despite his own reality.

He'd just pushed his phone into his jean pocket and looked up to find boyfriend in front of him, who, with a hand at Stefan's nape and the other his ribs, pulled him in for a kiss under the mistletoe. Stefan couldn't help but melt into it and, if for just a moment, forget. When Alaric pulled back, he had a bemused expression on his face. "Minty. Did you brush your teeth?" Stefan gave a half shrug. "Trying to make me look back," the dirty-blond teased.

"You're looking way too much into it," Stefan told him and it played into the joke.

"So you don't mind my morning breath?"

"You'd have to be there in the morning for me to mind it," Stefan pointed out.

"Ooh, burn," Damon stage-whispered as he passed into the parlor.

Alaric rolled his eyes at the other vampire but looked at the brunette with searching eyes. "Stefan?"

Stefan put a reassuring hand on his chest. "Ric, I understand that this is something that you feel you need to do, and as much as I wish you didn't feel it necessary, I didn't mean anything by it." He held his gaze steadily so Alaric knew he was telling the truth. "I just miss you, that's all."

"I'm still here, I promise." He squeezed Stefan's arms. "Right here."

"I know." It felt like his heart skipped a beat and he hugged the man, his cheek turned on his shoulder and face pressed into his neck. Stefan just didn't know how long _he_ was going to be here. And maybe now, considering the position that Stefan found himself currently in, maybe it was a good thing they were sleeping in separate beds for the moment. Stefan exhaled and slumped against him.

"Hey," Alaric murmured into his hair, squeezing the crook of his neck comfortingly. "You alright?"

Stefan's dream last night made him feel like he had run a marathon, leaving him without rest. He'd been on his feet all day, doing this and that, wracked with anxiety over Damon's absence. And now, with the crippling hunger, violent vomiting, and painful cramps with dizzy spells... "Just bone-weary."

"It's been a long day,"

"Being human is exhausting," he admitted.

"Do you want to head up early?"

Stefan gave his head a little shake. "It's barely even 10 yet. I wanna spend time with you and Damon."

"Okay."

"Board game!" Stefan declared.

"Fine," Damon called; it wasn't hard to over-hear Stefan at that volume. "I'm in a giving mood so hurry up and grab it before I change my mind."

…

The ambience of the parlor was very festive and warm. The fireplace was lit and crackling, casting a soft orange glow. The Christmas tree lights were colourful, the crystal angle was sparkling, throwing colourful prisms on the ceiling. Stefan could smell the tree, the train set going round and round the base. It was nice and quiet and warm, just the 3 of them, well 4 with Salvatore, his water coloured by the lights from his spot on the shelf.

Damon sat in his arm chair by the fire, bourbon in 1 hand and shuffling the dice in the other.

"Just roll already!" Alaric complained from the opposite side of the coffee table on the floor. "The dice don't accumulate luck the longer you shuffle—you're just making them all warm."

Damon paused and stared across at him arrogantly. "You clearly don't know me, Teacher, otherwise you know I don't need luck—I have skill." He rolled, the dice clattering across the board. They stopped, a 6 and 4. He moved his piece 10 spaces and picked up a yellow card as it instructed. "' _Take 2 tokens from any player'."_ He read out loud, smug, sending a vicious grin across to the dirty-blond.

"You're lying." Alaric rose to his knees and reached across the table, snatching the card and reading it, even as Damon slid over 2 tokens mockingly.

"That, my friend, is skill."

"You're cheating," Alaric accused, throwing the card in the box lid with the others.

"Don't be a poor loser, _Ric_." Damon sipped coyly at his bourbon. Alaric glowered at him, sitting back. Stefan looked between the 2, seated on a footstool, his back to the fire, a throw pillow hugged to him as if he could snuff out the pangs in his stomach, with a fondly amused expression.

"You rigged it." Alaric took up the dice.

"I don't see how that could possibly be true. I didn't set up the board, so I believe you're really accusing Saint Stefan of nepotism."

Alaric looked over to the brunette, who raised a thick brow that was just daring him to question his integrity on the matter; Alaric gave him an awkward smile to the other vampire's amusement and meekly rolled the dice. Stefan hid his own smirk behind the edge of the pillow.

Stefan didn't know what Alaric was complaining about. The teen may have shuffled the decks, but it granted him no favors, pulling bad card after bad card. Hell, he landed on that same stupid space twice that sent him back to START. At least Damon was more focused on getting a humorous reaction out of the other vampire than he was on targeting Stefan's severely dwindled tokens.

Stefan rubbed the dice between both his hands then held them out to his brother, "Blow."

"It's that usually something your lover's supposed to do?" Damon pointed out.

Stefan sent Alaric an apologetic look. "Sorry, baby, but you're barely doing better than me." Alaric sighed in acceptance at that and Stefan turned back to Damon. "I'm partial to a little nepotism right now." Damon heaved a put-upon sigh but blew on the dice. He rolled a 5 and moved his piece. He picked up a green card. "' _Roll again. If you roll 3-7, take 3 tokens from any player. If you roll 8-12 give away 3 tokens. If you roll snake-eyes, return to START'._ Oh, god." He shot a hopeful look at Damon, who returned it deadpan. Stefan sighed and rolled, his breath held. "3!" Stefan grinned. And now to Alaric's glee, Stefan took his number from Damon's pile.

"I give you my skillz and this is the thanks I get?" Damon wondered.

Stefan shrugged a shoulder. "Thank you, big brother." He gave a smile.

"That was a pity blow anyways," he snatched the dice. Alaric couldn't help the snicker and Damon glared as he rolled. "' _Make a player move back 5 spaces'._ I'm looking at you, Teacher."

Alaric moved his piece back and rolled, he took a green card. "' _Choose a red card and give it to any player'."_ He passed a red card unread to Damon.

Damon expression was stoic as he read it silently and raised his blue gaze to the vampire across from him. "If you weren't already sleeping separately," he mused, "Baby brother would have you in the dog house for this." He turned the card around between his index and middle fingers, there was a depiction of a skull and crossbones and under it read: "' _Empty the pot of the player to your right'."_

"I would like to say that I wouldn't be that petty..." Stefan trailed off, pushing the rest of his tokens over to converge with Damon's large pot. Alaric gave his boyfriend an apologetic grimace as Damon smugly crowned his own piece with Stefan's, taking him off the board and out of the game. "I'm kidding. Mostly," he teased, leaning forward and pressing a peck to his lips.

"Play time is over, kids." Damon declared, shuffling the dice.

"This is going to end with whoever wins this lording it over the other, isn't it?" Stefan deadpanned.

"Yes!" the agreed together.

Stefan chuckled and gave his head an amused shake, but settled back to watch (and referee), his legs crossed up on the footstool, careful not to put pressure on his injured heel. "Oh, no," he hissed with horrible realization and the terrible timing of it as he felt the familiar burning rushing sensation through his sinuses that usually followed the sharp headache but proceeded it this time around. He'd been untypically lucky before when it came to his nosebleeds, but not this time around.

"Stef?" both vampires looked at him.

Stefan raised his hands to his face as blood gushed from his nose, thicker and more fluid than was typical previously—and the cheery atmosphere vanished instantly. He instinctively leaned forward, trying not to get it all over the absorbent furniture and it dripped steadily onto the cardboard game board as he pinched his nose with one hand and cupped with the other. There was a blur of vampire movement around him; Alaric holding his shoulders comfortingly and Damon from the parlor and back again.

"Here, here." Damon was on his other side, pulling his hands away and replaced them with a face towel, Stefan's bloodied hands holding that instead. "'Kay, come on, let's get you to the bathroom." With a nod to Alaric over the brunette's bowed head, they pulled him to his feet.

The change in elevation had that aforementioned migraine kicking in with force. Stefan groaned, swooning briefly between them as he saw spots in his vision. "Whoa, easy." Alaric murmured. He squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to work through it. "Stef?" the only thing keeping him on his feet right now was them.

"'M good." Stefan managed through the blood running down the back of his throat as well as out his nose, his voice muffled by the face towel. "I'm good." They guided him from the parlor and down the hall as the lighted garland decorated arches seemed to flare through his eyes and to his migraine.

The half-bath was too small for the whole group, so it ended up with Stefan sat on the closed lid and Damon tending to him. This seemed to be a familiar scene from way back. He remembered his first nosebleed; Damon had been trying to teach him how to throw a right hook and accidentally broke his nose instead—the proceeding amount of blood and pain had been frightening to his 6 year old self (his outlook on blood had reformed since then).

Alaric paced the hall, fighting his own instinctual urges as the scent of Stefan's blood ignited the hunger in him, his gums aching as he fought the release of his fangs, his eyes squeezed shut against the engorged veins under his eyes trying to flush his sclera with blood.

"Keep pressure," Damon ordered and Stefan would have rolled his eyes if he didn't think it would cause an episode of vertigo. Damon adjusted the position of his arms and moved the bit of bloodied towel hanging in front of his mouth. "Spit." He held the glass from the back of his sink under his chin.

Stefan hesitated only for a microsecond, but he was sure Damon keen gaze caught before he spat out the blood that had managed to go down the back of his throat—he really, _really_ , wanted to swallow, but swallowing anything right now would put him in a precarious position right now. Stefan licked the copper from his lips as Damon rinsed the cup out. The brunette watched him through tired green slits as he turned and leaned back against the edge of the sink, the cup still in hand, watching him back.

"A little convenient, isn't it?" Damon queried conversationally. "You getting a nosebleed just as I was about to win, no less. Trying to save your boyfriend the humiliation?"

Stefan was barely able to pull back before he snorted. "I think it's the other way around, brother." He played along. "Wanted to keep you in a good mood."

Damon did snort. "It was fun while it lasted," he said quietly, more loudly: "It’s almost been 10 minutes, the bleeding should have stopped by now." He put the glass down and crouched in front of his brother. Stefan took away the stained face towel and lowered his arms. The lower half of his face caked with blood. "You know, I thought we were passed me seeing you covered in blood." Damon carefully examined him, his cool fingertips light.

Stefan gave a dry laugh. "I just don’t think that’s in the books for me, brother."

Damon paused to stare at that, reading into it deeper than Stefan wanted him to as he gave the vampire a wan smile. "It seems to have stopped."

"Good, ‘cause I need all the blood I can get these days." He snickered. Yeah, definitely drunk on blood loss right now; it would probably be better the faster he was alone. The strain of his migraine knitted his brows, and he was still taken with the woozy light-headedness as he stood, bracing himself on Damon’s strong shoulders.

Damon let him and allowed him room to the sink, where he washed his face, his forearms braced against the edge of the sink for balance. He rinsed his mouth, spat and made sure not to swallow no matter how thirsty he was feeling. Finally, he stepped free of the bathroom.

"Stef?" Alaric cupped his pale cheek, searching his eyes, trying to discern if he truly was alright, but had a difficult time looked passed his drawn expression and exhausted eyes.

Stefan reached up and squeezed his hand, pulling it from his face. "It was just a little nosebleed, nothing to worry about."

Damon narrowed his eyes as his compelled words were repeated back to him. "There was nothing 'little' about it, baby brother. Blood came out of your nose like a broken water spout."

"Now you're being melodramatic." Stefan denied. "All this means is your blood is finally out of my system, everything's back to... well, the way it used to be. Hunger, headache, nosebleed." He ticked off. "It's nothing to worry about."

"When you say there's nothing to worry about, and the thing we shouldn't worry about is you," Alaric informed him. "I tend to do the opposite."

"I'm fine. I feel better now."

"When you say 'fine', it's like a woman saying 'fine', which doesn't really mean 'fine'." Damon declared, not in a very believing mood, especially when it came to things like this and his brother.

Stefan completely ignored that and said: "I think I'm just going to go to bed." He kissed Alaric and gave Damon a quick hug before his brother could try and stop him and took the stairs 2 at a time, ignoring the pull on his injured heel and the way it almost made him feel ‘floaty‘.

Stefan shut his bedroom door, leaning back against it in the dark as he waited for the dizziness to expel, and turned on the reading lamp to light his room with its soft glow. He'd forgotten Salvatore down the in parlor, but it was probably a sight happier there than it was currently in his bedroom. He didn't want to think, he just wanted to _sleep_. So he carefully made his way to his en suite and went to the bathroom and brushed the last of dried blood from his mouth in the glow of the motion activated nightlight by the sink.

But he knew with this migraine ringing through his head, he would just end up tossing and turning all night, so he went into the medicine cabinet and shook out two tablets into his palm. It probably wasn't the best idea to take blood thinners after just having his nose bleed like what felt like a geyser compared to his others, but it had already stopped and if there was a chance he could keep them down, then he was going to take it.

Stefan took the glass from the shelf above his sink and filled it with tap water. He downed the glass with 2 Tylenol and set the empty glass on the shelf behind the sink—and he waited, counting down 62 Mississippi’s. Staring at his reflection determinedly in the eerie glow. "Zero."

He gripped the edge of the sink with whitened knuckles, his pained gasp cut off by the muscle spasms as the wave of dizziness had him swooning forward. The water came up, along with the pills, with 2 long, painful heaves that left him shakily supporting himself on the sink as he tried to calm his breathing. He looked into the basin, but it wasn't just clear water, it was tinged pink. He stared at it for a moment before he reached up and touched under his nose, but his nose hadn‘t started to bleed again.

With a thick swallow Stefan quickly rinsed out the sink. Had there been blood on the other occasions tonight and he just never saw it because of the content and fast flushes? Perhaps; but this did point directly to one thing... the vampire blood seemed to have accelerated his deterioration.

Stefan had chosen to accept this new version of his body, that meant the hunger, that meant the pain. No body was perfect; he used to get sick all the time as a child. Sickness, pain, hunger—none of that was new to him. Though just because he suddenly accepted this last night, didn't automatically make everything alright (and he wasn't just talking about the physical condition of his body) it was a constant change and filtering of emotions, updates and processing. He just needed to adjust his mind to these new, more severe levels. Adjustments, like Alaric had said.

He saw movement in the background of the reflection and his gaze flickered over his shoulder—and he wasn't alone. Katherine. He sucked in a sharp breath. Her original brown eyes were gone, replaced with the lapis blue of the eyes from his dream. They gleamed in the shine from the nightlight.

"You're not real," he hissed through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut almost painfully, shutting her out. "You're dead. You don't exist. I'm just sick, I'm hallucinating."

" _My Rippah,_ " he felt her breath against his ear, but the voice didn't belong to her. It was male. A reverently whispered tone, intimate. In an old, handsome English accent. It was a voice that he _knew_ , that he felt he should _know_ , recognize, but couldn't grasp, translate, _remember. "My beautiful, ravenous, Rippah._ " The voice, even the diluted memory of it, for he could understand no other explanation, tingled through his blood like nothing he knew before. It lit his hindbrain right up, filled him with anticipation, excitement, fear—hunger. That he would lose control, lose himself. He felt the old, familiar pressure in his upper gums of his fangs (that were no longer there) wanting to release, to feed. To engorge himself, to never stop. To free himself, of all these burdens, this sickness.

Saliva gushed into his mouth, chasing away the aftertaste of bile. The hungry snarl built deep within his chest and tried to climb harshly up his throat. The Ripper, the monster! "No!" He spun around swinging, but she was gone, he was gone— _they_ were gone. He struck at empty air; rationally, he knew to expect nothing else, but the irrational part insisted he should have struck something solid. He could have sworn she was there, he could have sworn he felt her breath, heard his voice.

He braced himself back heavily against the sink, his breath shaky. Those days were over, long over. He refused. He said he would rather be dead then ever turn into that monster—and it would appear he was getting his wish...

Stefan was dying.

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. So, don't mean to be cruel, but I'm ending this chapter here. Seriously sorry it took so long to post, I was stuck on that damned snow-angel scene for a week, but finally, I got through Christmas Day. This chapter is my longest yet, Chapter 15 was previously, even without the deleted, but now this one is top in length if nothing else. And what did you think about my idea for how/why/when Stefan got his rose tattoo?Anyway............................................................ see you all next chapter!


	18. CHAPTER 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answers to... MOST of you questions ;)

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Stefan massaged his temples with thumb and middle finger, attempted to assuage the pounding in his head without chemical intervention as the fight-or-flight response in his body died out, leaving him shaky and light-headed in the aftermath. The sink took his entire weight at the moment, it was the only thing keeping him on his feet, his leg muscles trembling. He was exhausted, true. He wasn't lying when he told Alaric he was bone-weary; the exhaustion he felt, both mentally and physically cut sharply into his aching bones.

Though death was hunting after him like a haunting ghost, it wasn't that which affected so acutely at the moment. He'd experienced 2 **true** deaths; when Giuseppe had shot him and when Katherine put slivers into his undead heart. But in between those 2 monumental moments that altered his life completely both times, he experienced hundreds of pseudo-deaths. He had died in his vampiric state, just not fatality. He felt the pain, the emotion, would always hold a whisper of the experience on his psyche—though it was never as thick as the untold thousands he killed at his fangs. So, death was nothing new to him, death was just a guarantee. But even so, having lived the past 145 years with only a handful of things that could put him down for good, Stefan's fear of death had been reignited to new temperatures after having been turned human, his near falls down the main staircase and the basement steps, nearly throwing himself off his balcony in his fevered state and waking up frightfully alone in the hospital—but that novelty had long since worn off.

In fact, he had been so wanting of his third **true** death, that he sought it out this time around. That was all before he _knew._ From his aversion to compulsion and sickness with vampire blood, with that third true death, there would be no third life like he had believed when he came to the conclusion of his gradual deterioration. Stefan had been.... arrogant. He assumed he'd have time, time to give everyone what they wanted. They wanted him _alive_ and human, and he had promised that to Alaric for as long as he was able, before the deterioration became too great and then he would take his vampire blood and become undead for the final time. That did not appear to be the case any longer. The vampire blood seemed to have accelerated his deterioration, there would be no undead life for him. No eternity with Ric and his brother—Stefan didn't have the _time_ for eternity.

And yet, still, that wasn’t what had him so weak-kneed. It had been that vision—that _hallucination_. Of Katherine but not of Katherine, with a voice he couldn't place, eyes the colour of lapis lazuli that did not have a face... and so he had subconsciously superimposed it with the form 1 of the most evil creatures he knew. That should have told him all he needed to know, yet he couldn't help but wonder despite everything else that was going on: where did he know it from? _who_ did it belong to, this voice that ignited such a visceral Ripper emotion in him? The only conclusion he could come to, the one it always came to—was 1922. The only way he could ever forget such a man, was the numerous bloodlust fugue episodes he'd gotten into at the time and it was like cracks of his darkened past opening up to him in his weakening state, unearthed from the forgotten or unexplored darkness, to bob to the surface.

As much as he both wished and dreaded to know of those blank spaces of the early 1920's of his Ripper thirst, that wasn't what held true importance at the moment.

Stefan pushed his weight from the sink determinedly, scrubbing a hand over he sweaty face as he gave himself a moment to get his wobbly bearings. He pulled his Rudolph sweater off overhead, leaving him bare-chested as he left his en suite, discarding the piece of clothing in the hamper as he passed, towards his desk, not bed, despite how much he wanted. Somehow, for all the blood, he hadn't managed to get any on the sweater which seemed to be a first in a _long_ line of innumerable where Stefan and blood were concerned. He sat heavily in the chair and pulled open the bottom side drawer; from it he took 1 of the blank journals out and cracked it open on the cleared spot on the desktop. His other personal journal sat under the lit lamp by his reading chair where he'd left it the night before; he wished he had the time to write about the hallucination, his hypothesis, sort through the distracting emotion and feelings it unearthed, all the rabid questions circling in his mind like an unkindness of raven, but _this_ took priority.

He clicked his ballpoint pen and drew the tip across the clean top margin: _Dear Bonnie_ , he wrote. It was followed by _Dear Elena, Dear Ric, Dear Damon_ , until finally, a page short of finishing the second, 200 page journal and a fresh pen later, he closed the journal. Stefan gave a quiet sigh, he knew it wouldn't be enough for them, but it would have to be. He knew there was much he needed to and could say to each of them, but it might not even matter, it was insurance, just in case. He gave his head a shake and rose from the desk and locked the 2 journals in the top dresser drawer and crawled into bed still in his jeans, eyes slipping closed.

But even in sleep it wouldn't release him. _My Rippah_. It was like the sea drawing back from the shore, leaving him floundering helpless on the wet seabed. _My beautiful._ The hollow ache inside of him gathering, building. _Ravenous_. "Mm," Stefan groaned in pain, 1 hand clutching at his stomach, the other fisting the sweaty sheets. That beautiful, frightful voice purred through his warm, rushing blood; enticing the brunette's hunger from its already unimaginable height to something beyond conceivability. _Rippah_. The sea came crashing back unto him, red, violent, tossing him around. Forcing itself down his throat, invading him, consuming him. _My Rippah!_

Stefan's green eyes snapped open and he sat up abruptly, his legs over the side. Beads of sweat on his skin, his chest panting as his gaze, pupils wide, moved around the room predatorily. He was so _hungry_ and he needed to _feed._ He rose to his feet and went to his bedroom door, yanking it open sharply. It stopped an inch short of hitting the wall behind as he stepped through out into the hall. Bare-chested and barefoot but for the wrap around his heel, his steps were silent as he stalked down the dark hall. He was _hungry_ and he knew the only way to assuage that was _blood_. This was what he needed. He would _drink_ and _drain_ until this unfathomable emptiness inside of him was silent and filled and **gone**. He ran his tongue over his pointed canines, his heart pounding with anticipation, excitement, _hunger._ It had been such a long time since he had a proper hunt. He almost moaned at the taste of blood again on his tongue, filling him deliciously but managed to stop himself—wouldn't want to alert his prey.

He only paused in front of the door for an instant as he found the knob and silently turned the brass handle. The door opened just as silently, the hinges well oiled. He closed it faintly behind him. He had considered, only briefly, to go a little further down for the other's door, he had tasted more of that one's blood and it had been so satisfying; and though the hunt was fun, foreplay before the feed, _this_ one would be far more easier for Stefan to get what he needed the quickest without the fight. The only light came from the window in the en suite through the open door, the lighting of rising dawn. He could see the shadowed shape under the covers on the bed as he approached quietly, only stirring when he reached it.

"Stef?" a confused, dirty-blond head rose as the vampire sat up, pushing the covers down from his tee clad chest but Stefan said nothing, simply crawled onto the bed, grasped Alaric's head and crashed their lips together hungrily. Alaric didn't push him away, but held him closer, hands on his ribs. "Wh--" he mumbled as Stefan nipped his bottom lip but swallowed the rest as he kissed him again, pushing him back down against the pillow. The vampire had no other choice but to (pleasantly) surrender to the assault of Stefan's incredible tongue with an appreciative groan, hands caressing the teen's warm, bare flesh. Stefan started to trail his kisses and Alaric laid his head back.

Stefan rubbed his cheek briefly against the prickly stubble on his jaw before he continue down to his goal. Alaric almost chuckled when Stefan licked his neck where his pulse would have been had he still been living, before a hungry snarl left the brunette as he pulled back his top lip and sunk his pseudo-fangs into his artery viciously.

Alaric shoved him back with surprise at the sharp pain, his absolute shock making him utterly forget his supernaturally enhanced strength and he sent the human flying off the end of the bed and slamming into the chest of drawers.

"Stefan!" he shouted in horror, jumping out of bed and tripping over the blanket tangled around his feet to get to the teen, crashing to his knees. "Stefan?" he reached out to the slumped form, placing a hand on a jean-clad knee, the other gently cupping his cheek and raising Stefan's bowed head.

Stefan was awake, his eyes open, a possessed quality in them as he ran his tongue rapidly over his lips and teeth—looking for any morsel of blood, Alaric realized, but there was none to find, Stefan hadn't the chance to break the skin, fortunately. Alaric was frozen, caught in the green gaze; his eyes were almost the complete opposite of what they were like with his episode in the kitchen, these were manic, desperate, and **starving,** slicing straight into his soul.

He swallowed thickly. "Stef? Hey," Alaric's voice wavered a little, his voice a whisper. His thumb stroked across his cheek softly, wanting to draw Stefan back out without giving him a shock like a sleepwalker. He watched as Stefan's top lip trembled slightly as it appeared to start to draw back before it dropped and Alaric found himself staring at _Stefan_ again as he continued to stroke his cheek, even with mania and desperation and starvation still shining in his eyes. "Stefan, talk to me."

Stefan shoved him on his ass in the effort to get up and away, chest heaving. "I'm fucking going crazy!" he threw open the bedroom door and raced down the hall, jumping down the stairs; the jolting pain in his back amounted nothing on the hunger that was wrenching him apart from the inside.

"Stefan!" Alaric scrambled to his feet and blurred out into the hall in just his shirt and boxers. "D--" Alaric started, turning back to the door farther down the hall, but Damon was already standing there in a pair of sleep pants hanging low off his hips. They shared a glanced and blurred after the brunette.

Stefan wrenched open the refrigerator door, it slamming back against the counter, the jars cluttered on the door shelves clattering loudly. He started grabbing out all the packed containers of last night's leftover Christmas dinner. Had his body not rejected it, there would have been a lot less leftover, but he had, so there was. It was such a waste of good food, but he couldn't help himself, he _needed_ it, needed _something_ , anything to give him pause against this consuming hunger lest he try for another throat. The very last thing he needed in his current desperate condition was vampire blood. He unburdened his load on the island, kicking the fridge door shut with a heel and pulling the closest stool under him as he started ripping lids off containers.

He didn't even bother with a utensil as he crammed a chunk of turkey meat into his mouth, that he had stripped from the bone the other night, just as Damon and Alaric blurred into the kitchen. There was silence as they stared at him, his own gaze flickering between the two, but was more focused on the food before as he kept going back for more even as he was _still_ chewing. He couldn't believed he'd almost Rippered Alaric—again—even with their roles reversed, and it wasn't some stupid dream manipulation this time. But all he could truly think about was _food_ and _hunger_ and he was determined to truly eat this time until his body was _stuffed._

"Hey, great idea." Damon announced as if having been asked a question, his patience over. "Start talking," he commanded his brother, reaching across and picking up the turkey container.

Stefan green eyes flashed and his top lip peeled back dangerously as he made such a terrible snarling sound that Damon even put the dish down and backed off, cautious at the clear threat. Definitely far more effective than the incident in the Grill with the quarterback. He might be arrogant, but he wasn't stupid, Damon put up a good front but he knew when to be... _cautious_. And that snarl had been just a little _too_ Ripper for his tastes. "Alright, brother." He raised his hands in supplication briefly before they dropped back to the edge of the counter; away from the dishes and in clear view. "So eat and talk then."

"What do you want me to say?" Stefan's voice came out muffled, defeated around the mouthful of turkey.

"Oh, I don't know brother... How about the truth for once?" Damon returned harshly.

Stefan swallowed but was already eating another piece. "I haven't eaten in 4 days." He grabbed a serving spoon from the holder and pulling over the butternut squash gratin and dug in.

"You ate yesterday--" Alaric started.

Stefan shook his head. "I puked it all up. The turkey, the pie—all of it."

"And you said nothing because...?" Damon hissed, leaning heavily across on the counter. "Because you fucking selfish, as always."

Stefan gave him an incredulous look. "I'm selfish?!" he demanded.

"Damn right you are!" he slammed his fist onto the countertop, making all the containers and kitchenware jump.

"How the hell am _I_ the selfish one?" Stefan rose to his feet in demand, challenging his brother only to realize he'd stopped eating and quickly dropped back onto the stool, shovelling in a spoonful of butternut squash, white wine deglaze, and shredded cheese. Though his mouth was occupied, he raised his thick brows and narrowed gaze still challenging his brother to an answer.

"You're the worst kind of selfish," Damon informed with a sneer. "The fucking martyr! All you care about is selfishly throwing yourself into the fire for some stupid bastard, that you insert yourself grandly into without consulting anybody else, with your humungous hero-complex and killing yourself for some stupid cause that has nothing to do with you—instead of fucking trying to live and actually think about what everyone else actually wants! Yeah, you bet your Saintly ass you're selfish!" Stefan silently shoved the empty container away, but before he could pull another towards him, Damon mocking pushed it towards him. "Eat up, brother."

Stefan did, barely even having to chew the potato as he continued to stare in silence at his fuming brother. After such the trouble he'd caused for the people he loved the most: Damon retaliating against Lexi by convincing her he loved her, then leaving her trapped on the roof to burn with the sun because Stefan had been too much of a coward to fae his brother himself; bringing Elena into the life of vampires; Damon staking Lexi when she'd come for Stefan's birthday; dragging Bonnie into his mess and implicit in Katherine's death; taking Ric away from a normal relationship without a hunger for blood... So Stefan didn't consult before he dove into the path of wooden bullets. He didn't ask permission, because whoever it was for had as much (more) of a right to life as (than) him, theirs was a 1000 times more important than his own even if he hadn't already lived passed his own due date. To cultivate their life, their happiness, their safety; that was what made _him_ happy, made _him_ want to live—made it worth it.

"You can't save everyone no matter how damn hard you try, Stefan." Damon said quietly. "And I know that's how you are, you will try, no matter how unlikely you'll succeed—I just wish you'd try that hard with yourself."

Stefan stared gently across the counter at his brother, slowly chewing before he swallowed. "I'm trying, Damon. But I can't just change overnight. I just wanted to have 1 Christmas without anyone dying or drama, just 1 thing that was _normal_ for once."

"This certain proclivity of yours, brother, irritates me to no end! Normal," he scoffed. "You will never be normal Stefan Salvatore and it has nothing to do with the fact that you're a doppelganger or are 162 years old, or were a vampire or came back from the dead as a human... you're special, get the hell over it and just move on!"

The corners of Stefan's mouth tightened into a frown as he finished off the stuffing. All Stefan had ever wanted was normal, even as a child, even before Katherine came into their lives; a mother who didn't grow ill for carrying him, a father who didn't drink and abuse his sons. "What do you wanted from me?" he finally said sadly. "I'm only human," he mused drily.

"The only difference now is that when I kick your ass," Damon growled sadistically, "I get to admire my handy work for a couple weeks."

"Okay, that's messed up, Damon." Alaric spoke up.

"It's alright, Ric." Stefan remarked, unfazed. "I already know he likes to look at me." He sent a smirk at Damon's glower and stuffed a bread roll into his mouth as he rose from the stool and back to the fridge for more food, already having powered through all the Christmas dinner leftovers without leaving a scratch on his hunger.

"Jesus, Stefan!" both vampires exclaimed as they got their first look at his bared back.

"What now?" Stefan questioned around a mouthful of raspberries he took from the crisper, distracted as he multitasked between keeping food in his mouth and gathering it in his arms.

"Your back," Damon said through gritted teeth, his fists clenched at his sides.

Alaric was stock still and staring. A better portion of Stefan's back was discoloured with dark purplish bruising, the muscles shifting tenderly under the abused skin as he shifted around, gathering items in his arms. The vampire could see the harder areas of impact, in 3 parallel lines roughly 4 centimetres long, spaced roughly 7 inches apart that could only have been caused by the protruding brass handles on the chest of drawers he had smashed into.

"It's fine," he just shrugged, turning back from the fridge and putting the contents of his arms on the counter island. He quickly tore open a package of lunch meat and put some between slices of bread without garnish and ate. "It's just bruising and a cracked rib."

"A cra--" Alaric choked in horror, paler than a vampire. "I did--?"

Damon turned on the dirty-blond in a blur. "You fucking touched him?" he snarled, his fangs out.

"Don't touch him," Stefan warned his brother. "I look him by surprise, he was just defending himself."

Damon still had Alaric's tee fisted, but turned his head to his brother. "Defending what, his virtue?" he snarked.

"No," Stefan stared at his brother. "From me Ripping his throat out."

Damon blinked at him, taken aback, and released the teacher. "What the hell are you talking about?" he looked between the couple demandingly.

Stefan was working on his second sandwich and closed his eyes briefly. "I worked myself into some sort of bloodlust, okay? You 2 honestly don't seem to understand what my hunger is like. You 2 might crave blood, like a craving for chocolate on steroids—I wish that's what this felt like. So I worked myself into a bloodlusting state and went on the hunt because the last time I remember _not_ being hungry was when I drank your blood after the nutmeg reaction." He was already finished the package of lunch meat and was simply just finishing off the loaf; wheat was supposed to be heavy on the stomach, perhaps that could make a difference. "Just be glad that your door was further down the hall and you are somewhat less agreeable to me crawling into your bed," he informed Damon.

"Promises, promises, brother." Damon crossed his arms over his bare chest.

"So, we'll give you more blood." Alaric suggested.

Stefan shook his head. "Vampire blood just made everything worse."

"But you said it took away your hunger."

"Completely," he agreed with a moment of remembered silence and comfort. "So completely that I couldn't get anything passed my mouth." He started plucking pickles from the jar. "And now that it's out of my system, I can eat but I can't keep anything down."

"You're eating right now," Damon pointed out.

"Exactly. I'm _eating_ right now, when I stop you're not gonna want to get in my way." Stefan warned.

"That's the reason why you took so long getting the pie," Alaric realized quietly, his gaze cast down. "And your rush to hand off the eggnog. The real reason you brushed your teeth, to hide the smell." He looked up at the brunette, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"His ridiculous normal Christmas." Damon answered for him. "Well?" he raised a threatening brow at his brother.

"You're not allowed to get angry," he told Damon, his gaze flickering over to Alaric.

"Don't tell me how to feel."

"And you can't leave," Stefan added. "You said you wouldn't."

"What, I have to do a 180 in change but you get to keep pulling the same old bullshit? I don't think so, little brother, so you better spill all your dirty little secrets right now and _I'll_ decide how I'm going to feel and whether or not you deserve a timeout from my excellent company."

Stefan was silent as he stood from the stool and went to the cupboards, quickly finding an open box of cereal and started eating it dry as he pulled other cereal and cracker boxes out. "My nosebleed last night was abnormally heavy compared to the others." He kept his gaze down, focused on the cereal he was shovelling into his mouth; he could feel the heat of his brother's gaze. "The last time I puked," he admitted quietly, holding a new box of crackers to his chest, "There was blood." There was a loud crashing, clattering, breaking cacophony as Damon swept the crowded island clear, sending everything to the floor. Stefan did cringe back this time as containers whacked against his shins. "Was that necessary?"

Damon was practically shaking with suppressed rage. "Would you rather I collaborate with your boyfriend's bruises?"

"That was uncalled for," the brunette muttered, his gaze flickering over to the other vampire. Damon was furious; Alaric was the completed opposite, he was withdrawn, didn't say a word, didn’t react. Stefan wasn't sure which he preferred. Damon's because at least that was some sort of reaction, some sort of emotion instead of closing off and freezing out which the teacher was doing, which was never a good thing for a vampire. Damon just inhaled deeply through his nose in response; Stefan knew that expression well—Damon really had the desire to rip 1 organ or another out of his body. "Maybe not," he quickly went to the fridge and grabbed the juice carton, drinking directly from the carton, pacing the swallows out.

Stefan forlornly rubbed a hand over his stomach in defeat. He'd eaten enough for about 30 people already and yet he was still washboard abs, there was no gut for overeating, yet it was all inside of him. There was no barrier, there was nothing inside of him that said STOP. He could eat and eat and there would never bee any change. The hunger hadn't eased a breath, it felt like he had a bunch of rabid piranha feasting inside of him with frenzy, consuming him.

"I'm calling Bonnie," Alaric stated and didn't wait for the brunette to protest before he blurred from the kitchen to Zach's old room to get his cell, but he didn't protest.

"I think that's for the best," he whispered, the empty juice carton slipping from his fingers and onto the floor. Stefan turned and headed out the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Damon followed.

Stefan didn't stop. "I have under 2 minutes before I puke my guts out, and this time, I honestly don't think that is an exaggeration. I should be done by the time Bonnie gets here," and he shut the half-bath's door in the Damon's face.

He wished he could have done this in his en suite, but without the ability of vampire speed, he never would have made it. As it was, he was struck with a debilitating cramp that put him on his knees in front of the toilet, the dizzying sickness that went with it barely left him with enough coordination to lift the toilet seat up before a convulsion ripped through his body and he was vomiting. His head literally in the bowl as he gripped the porcelain white-knuckled, his collarbones pressed against the edge otherwise he was afraid he might miss with the disorientation he was feeling.

It was like a meat hook was jammed down his throat and violently tore his guts up out the same way. Tears of stress, pain, and fear leaked from his eyes to mingle with the strained sweat that coated his skin, dampened his hair as his body heaved painfully, his airway cut off at the passage of things forced out the wrong way. He lost count of how many times he'd flushed, when he remembered to, in those precious seconds of control before his body was forced unnaturally against itself. There was such pressure inside his skull, it fell like it was going to explode and split in half like a melon with a bunch of elastics around it. There was blood, but he couldn't rightly discern from where, just that there was. All he knew was that some of it was at least from his nose, which was currently dribbling, leaving him even more constricted in his airway; blood trying to run down his throat as wasted food was forcing its way up.

It seemed like the puking triggered the migraine which triggered his nosebleed and it was all just wracking through his already weakened and deprived body, straining it dry. It was all so dizzying and disorienting and he just wanted to lay his head down, take a nap and then he'd get right back to it, but his body was no longer in his control; maybe he had just been delusional this entire time as human to think it was from that first fever. He had gained the illusion of control over the headaches and nosebleeds because he had been able to hide them, not that he actually had control. The very same to all the rest of it, he had just been fooling himself.

"Hungh!" Stefan gave a sobbing, breathless cry of pain and surprise at the wicked sharp pain in his right ribs and came the realization that he must have exacerbated his already cracked rib from being thrown into the chest of drawers, into a full break. Whimpers and sounds were pulled from him with what breath he had as spasms wracked through him, making sharp shooting pains through his side. Bright spots and dark edges crept into his vision.

"Stefan! Open this door or I will!"

Stefan was jolted back to reality, his new view the base of the toilet. He must have passed out and slumped down on the floor next to the toilet; smears of blood across the tile. Before he could say anything, let alone move, the door was already splintering inward. It swung open and struck his feet.

"Stefan?" cool fingers gently stroked his clammy cheek as he heard the tap running, "Can you sit up?" unable to find his voice at the moment, the trembling teen nodded his head once against the floor.

Alaric was gentle, waited to go at Stefan's own pace, but it didn't matter. Stefan let out an involuntary cry at the pain, sharp and hot in his right side. Alaric wanted to stop but Stefan already knew it would be painfully either way and pushed himself the rest of the way up. He leaned heavily back against the wall, his eyes shut tight and arms wrapped around his middle.

"Stefan? What is it?"

Stefan's arm tightened around his rib. "I broke my rib." His voice sounded so raw, felt so raw as he forced his sore throat to work.

"The force of your retching broke your cracked rip..." Alaric realized with dismay, dropping his touch from the teen.

Stefan eyes snapped open, not having seen the expression that accompanied the words but he had certainly _heard_ something in the tone that didn't sit well with him though before he could say anything, his attention was diverted at another touch.

Damon had knelt in the crowded area at his side without his awareness and gentled shifted his arm to reveal a new extension of dark bruising wrapped high around his right side. "You can't just do anything by halves, can you?" he said dryly.

"You're... one to talk." Stefan told him carefully as he resettled his arm.

Damon cocked a brow. "How's that?" he reached up to cradle his brother's nap to keep his head steady as he cleaned the blood, sweat, and sick from his face with a warm cloth like he was a sloppy toddler.

"The door wasn't locked," a curve flickered briefly at the corner of Stefan's mouth before it dropped back into a tight frown.

"When has that ever stopped me?" Damon tossed the used cloth back into the sink. "Come on, let's get you up."

Stefan shook his head tiredly against the wall. He was shivering in shock, trembling from overtaxed muscles, shaking from exhaustion. He just wanted to stay and not move, maybe faint again, that had been a pleasant break all things considered.

"Yes." Damon told him. "I'm not giving you a choice."

Stefan bit back the groan as Damon pulled him to his feet and helped him to the parlor. Damon, but not Alaric, who seemed keen to keep distance between them. Damon left him on the sofa, arms wrapped around himself, trying to breath shallow to lessen the pain in his side which was a great distraction from the hunger. His stomach was a ball of agony, chaffed raw, stomach acid in the back of his throat and yet all it wanted was food, to be filled up all over again. He was so hungry it made him feel sick all over again.

"Bonnie should be here soon," Alaric assured him, hoping the young witch really could make this all better and the brunette belatedly realized they had both dressed.

The other vampire returned. "Here, I got you a sweater." Damon helped Stefan into the zipper hoodie, doing it up for him just like a quarry with his leather jacket.

It wasn't until Alaric’s scent slowly blanket over the faint smell of his sweat and sick that he realized Damon must have just grabbed the first thing he saw, which happened to have been Alaric‘s; Stefan was happy at the ignorance of his brother. He knew something else was wrong, but it was hard to grasp for anything outside the purview of pain he was in. Stefan let out a squawk of surprise as something unexpectedly cold was pressed to his skin under the sweater. "A little warning next time," he griped. He let out a shuddering breath, his hand going over the material to hold the cold pack in place and Damon withdrew his hand.

"Christ, brother." Damon muttered under his breath. "Why do you insist on doing this to yourself?"

"It's not like I activity look for it,"

"You sure about that?" it was an automatic, sarcastic, rhetorical question that held no depth and wasn't waiting for an answer but Stefan went quiet and he got that far away look in his green eyes. Damon sighed internally, he shouldn't have expected anything less from his Saint Stefan. "Shut up." Damon told him.

Stefan blinked and looked at him in confussion. "I didn't say anything."

"I can hear your giant guilt complex revving its engines from here, little brother. You're not fooling me with that at least." Stefan grimaced and looked away. "Can you drink water?"

Stefan silently shook his aching head. "It'll just make me puke again."

"When this is all over and you're of standing health... I'm gonna kick your fucking ass and this time you'll remember not to pull this shit again. Agreed?"

Stefan met his gaze tired by gave a small smile. "I look forward to it, big brother."

"Good, because super witch is here and she's got a lot of fucking explaining to do." He rose to his feet but Stefan quickly reached out, jolting his ribs with a grimace. Damon looked down at him. "I know what you're gonna say, and your partly right—you did this, you went full martyr on yourself, but you should have known better than that, Stefan. There are _always_ consequences and if she can't fix all the damage you've done... Well, you already know that I could never kill _you_ , brother." He pulled his wrist free but before he could more than a few steps the front door burst open and slammed closed, and a round of booted steps later, Bonnie appeared in the parlor entrance. "Took you long enough," Damon growled.

"This isn't Harry Potter, I can't just apparate." Bonnie hopped around, quickly yanking her boots off before she pushed passed the vampire. She tore her faux-fur trimmed, dark green winter coat and tossed it onto the chair, leaving her in a simple cream coloured boat neck fitting long sleeve, a pair of pink pyjama bottoms covered in Tweety-Bird, wearing a pair of toe socks with her knit cap covering her hastily knotted hair. It hadn't even been 6 am when Alaric's call woke her up and she'd literally rolled out of bed into her boots and coat and into the car. Thank god traffic was light and there was no patrol cars hiding out along the strip of lonely highway with her driving half-awake and over 100 mph. "Stefan," she murmured softly as she got her first look at him as he gave her a wan smile.

The vampire caught movement on the couch from his peripheral and spun, pinning the brunette with a glare who look in the process of standing of all things! "Your ass doesn't leave that cushion," Damon growled in warning and Stefan slumped back down again.

"Please tell me you didn't call Elena," Stefan questioned quietly. "I'd hate to have ruined her Christmas, too."

"You didn't ruin my Christmas, Stefan." Bonnie informed him. "And I would be more upset if you'd waited any longer." She perched on the edge of the cushion next to him, her small hand on his knee. "Alaric tried to explain to me over the phone but I think you should clarify so I can understand better."

Stefan nodded and told her about the migraines, nosebleeds, and blackouts which increased in frequency. The rise of his hunger. His thoughts that he was slowly deteriorating. The lack of every symptom after ingesting Damon's blood, but his inability to consume anything and the slow healing. The return of his insatiable hunger, inability to keep any food down, the increased nosebleed, the violent vomiting with blood and the dizzy spells.

Her grip on his knee increased with every sentence till she was white-knuckled. "These aren't things you can just ignore, Stefan!" Bonnie's voice raised involuntarily as she snapped with her upset. "If you didn't call me with the nosebleeds and headaches, then you sure as hell should have after you drank vampire blood!"

Stefan grimaced, more from the tone of her voice than the volume. "You sound like Damon," he grumbled.

"When it comes to you being foolish and bull-headed," she agreed and then heaved a sigh. She had to consciously release each finger clamped on his knee that was an empathetic reaction to the look on Damon's face that clearly translated his want to throttle his brother. "Well, there's nothing we can do about that now. I'm just going to do the same thing I did the last time you were sick, okay."

"You mean my aura?" Stefan asked.

Bonnie nodded but Damon scoffed. "Yeah, that did the job last time, too."

Bonnie gave him a glare. "There was nothing magically wrong last time, it was a simple human fever. Clearly with the interaction of vampire blood, the same can not be said now." Damon gritted his teeth but said nothing.

Stefan raised his brow as she slid from the couch and knelt in front of him. "You don't have to do anything," she told him. "Just try to relax, it's not going to hurt." The best connection was through the hearth of the body, the heart; like when she had healed him and he was sick. It was also always better with direct contact so she reached up and started to unzip the top of the sweater causing the cold pack to slip out from under his elbow. She picked it up in confusion, "What's this for?"

Stefan took the pack from her and set it on the sofa next to him. "I broke my rib."

She gasped. "From the convulsions from your puking?" she was both incredulous and horrified.

"Yup, but not before lover boy cracked his rib," Damon added helpfully.

"What?!" Bonnie exclaimed, looking back at the teacher.

Alaric squeezed his eyes closed. "It was an accident," his low admittance was agonized.

Stefan's expression twisted into remorse as he looked at the vampire. "I attacked him."

Bonnie turned back to him in confusion. "Why?"

"I was so hungry and anxious, I worked myself into a bloodlust." He whispered. "I just wanted it to stop and the only time I could remember that happening was when I drank Damon's blood."

Bonnie squeezed his left hand. "I'm gonna fix this, Stefan." She promised.

"Bonnie, I'm--" he barely stopped himself from saying 'fine' at her baleful stare and said instead: "None if this is your fault, Bon. You're still so new to this and yet you went beyond even the most experienced witches. I don't want you to blame yourself when you gave me more than I deserved or could have asked for." He turned his left hand over and squeezed hers, he stroked her cheek comfortingly; she could feel the tremor in his fingers. "You already saved Ric, you saved me more than once--"

"Enough with the sentimentalities," Damon interrupted harshly, "No one's dying so get to it, Bennett."

Bonnie inhaled deeply, staring for a moment at their connected hands, the Gilbert ring still sitting on his ring finger before she nodded to steady herself. She reached up and finished pulling the zipper down and laid her hand on his chest over his heart. She closed her eyes and breathed, she felt the beat of his heart against her palm; warm, real, and whole—but she knew something was different, off, even before she fully emerged.

Stefan watched her as her eyes slipped closed, as a calm came over her face, just watching her made the same come over him. He could feel the warmth of her palm on his chest, could feel it grow pleasantly as his heart beat and his shivers lessened, the strained tremble of his muscles. He could feel the purity of her magic, the love of her essence as it grew stronger with each breath, started to spread as their shoulders rose in tandem, their hearts linked. His eyes fluttered, irises rolling to white before his eyelids closed.

Bonnie calm fractured, her brows knitted and her breath hitched, sweat beaded on her upper lip. Damon and Alaric exchanged looks; that hadn't happened the last time Bonnie did this. She had known immediately that something was off as soon, even before, she slipped inward. But the fast connection lolled her into a false sense of security, the warm strength of his heart as it pulled her deeper, even as she tried to resist—and then it was a riptide yanking her under, dragging her deep.

Such pain, such hunger, such violence, such sorrow, such loneliness.

She was drowning. Oh, god, she just wanted it to consume her— **her magic** —so she wouldn't have to feel it any longer, but she needed to fight. That moment of weakness had this black dark hole pulling at her all the more reverently, trying to do just that—consume until there was nothing left of her, no magic. _No_! She fought it, clawed her way up, pulled back.

Bonnie's expression contorted and she groaned in pain, a wretched sound that put the vampires' sensitive inclinations on high alert, that hindbrain instinct of danger. And they watched as she was unexpectedly shoved back from Stefan by some invisible force, skidding slightly back even as Stefan didn't move an inch. A whimper escaped from her chest and suddenly Stefan own eyes snapped open, inhaling sharply; Damon could have sworn his eyes were black for an instant before they returned back to forest green.

"Bonnie!" Stefan cried in alarm at seeing her. "What's wrong?!"

He started to reach out but she pulled away from him, curling in on herself, her body wracked with shudders. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her middle, her knees drawn up. Her face pressed into the rug beneath, her eyes squeezed painfully shut, her lips pressed so tightly the blood left them as she attempted to stifle her cries and whimpers, her breath ragged.

"Bonnie?" she was pulled from herself by Stefan's scared, pleading voice.

Bonnie forced herself from her foetal ball on the floor; her muscles protested, wanting her to spasm back into the tight form again. She was ashen, a sheen of sweat on her face, her frame shaking slightly. "Oh, god, Stefan." Bonnie threw herself at him, her arms tight around him, her face buried in his neck.

Stefan hugged her back, confused and scared but wanting to comfort his friend; drawing comfort from her. "I'm right here, Bonnie." He stroked her capped head as he felt tears against his skin. "I got you. I got you."

"I felt it." She sobbed. "The hunger, the pain." Her arms tightened around him. He barely felt her fingers digging into his bruised back or his rib protesting against her weight as she shook against him.

"You're safe now," he murmured into her knit cap. He didn't understand what had happened. Bonnie hadn't been wrong when she said it wouldn't hurt; it had been a pleasant experience, warm, comforting—it had felt even better than the vampire blood, which had simply wiped everything out, leaving _nothing_ , but this _soothed_ and his body craved it. But clearly the same could not be said for the other teen. She said she felt it; the hunger, the pain— _his_ hunger, _his_ pain.

Bonnie took a deep shuddering breath and rose her face from his neck. She was close enough that he could feel her breath brush against his face, see the green in her eyes and gazed at him with such _understanding_ that it was almost unnerving. He felt self-conscious under her observation and hoped his breath wasn't too bad. "Are you okay?" she asked him, her voice had a slightly hoarse quality to it. Stefan nodded his head in confusion but the witch shook her head. "No, you're not, Stefan. This-- this is not you being okay. This was far from okay!" unshed tears glistened in her eyes. "How come you never said anything? I don't even know how you can sit there and not be curled up into a ball."

"Bonnie," Stefan said. "I really am feeling a bit better." He rubbed her shoulder as she shifted from his lap back onto the sofa next to him.

"Yeah," she whispered, still giving him that same look like she _knew_. "And I think I know why, too."

"What the hell is going on, teenage witch?" Damon demanded, disliking how out of the loop he was. "Care to share with the eager class yet?" he spread his arms.

Bonnie finally turned to look away from Stefan, but Alaric appeared next to her with a glass of water. She accepted it with a slightly shaking hand and sipped it. Stefan watched silently and sadly as the dirty-blond once again retreated, before he directed his attention to the girl next to him.

"Bonnie? Are you alright now?" Stefan asked her, hating that he'd caused this, even if he didn't understand how exactly.

Bonnie took another drink and nodded before she set the glass down on the end table. "Yes, but it was my own fault, really. Even before I went in, I could already tell something was off but I still wasn't prepared enough."

"What exactly happened?" Alaric asked.

"Everything was going fine—until we synched. As soon as we connected it was like I was tethered and just something inside of you wanted to consume my magic, started to literally siphon it." She wrapped her arms unconsciously around her middle. "And that was when I felt _it_ , was so caught up in it that for a few precious seconds I was just lost to it and it... _fed_ harder."

Stefan swallowed as he listen to her, withdrew his touch and watched her small frame shudder. "You're saying... I was draining your magic and that's why I feel better?" he voice was small, horrified.

Damon gave a bark of humourless laughter. "This is priceless! You just can seem to help yourself, can you, baby brother? A real Ripper till the end!"

Stefan turned his face away, his gaze unseeing. His arms were wrapped around his middle in what appeared to be a comforting gesture, but in reality was a punishing one as unseen, hand hidden by his elbow, his fingertips pressed against his broken rib; keeping him present, listening, even as he fought the familiar spiral. Felt Katherine press against his bruised back, felt _him_ press a smile against the back of his neck.

"What exactly are you saying?" Alaric demanded.

Bonnie inhaled deeply, straightening. "As I understand..." The witch's hypothesis was this: "Think of a human life in the form of a ball of light, such as a star with its own individual source of energy, the life force. The brighter the light, the longer the life span; enduring injury and illness as catalysts to dimmen that light. Now, take the life of a vampire, the force of a human taken over with dark magic, killing it, yet the star still lives, its light echoing on for light years. Stefan's life force was that dying star, finally blinking out of existence, but my magic reignited its true light. But coming back from the undead death takes a lot of energy—my magic—which was able to revive the star back into its purity, but lacked the ability to sustain and keep reproducing the energy needed so the life force simply started to expend itself and the light started to fade again—until it absorbed an outside source of magic, Damon's blood. Which was like pouring too much water onto a plant and drowning it; it was too much, too fast before Stefan's life force bottomed out the expenditure and its death accelerated. But if we introduce small amount of magic regularly, not enough to overwhelm but to _teach_ the life force to _regulate_ the energy its given, then eventually it will relearn to reproduce its own energy and Stefan won't have to rely of vampire blood or magic of any sort to live. His life force will burn on its own." She exhaled and looked around at the rooms occupants as they absorbed her reasoning. "There was residual magic in the ring after the spell to bring him back and that was what his body fed off in the hospital and there were no signs of deterioration." Bonnie continued, looking at Stefan next to her, "It wasn't until you were out of the hospital and the ring was out of magic that your hunger started to increase and then you started to get the headaches and nosebleeds. And then when you suddenly had Damon's blood in your system, your body over compensated and absorbed it all, if you will."

"But I thought the blood made it worse," Alaric said in confusion.

"On the surface, you can say that," she agreed. "But the problem was that too little and Stefan will continue to deteriorate. Too much and he's in overload and his body can't function properly." Bonnie turned to Damon, "Do you know exactly how much he drank?"

Damon rubbed the inside of his wrist thoughtfully. "About 2 pints."

Bonnie nodded. "That was obviously too much, maybe 125 ml a day, perhaps even a full cup."

Bonnie believed that with a regular intake of magic, like a vampire with human blood, he'd function normally like any other human without the frequent migraines, nosebleeds, and puking. Stefan felt a bitter swell of mocking laughter suddenly bubble in his chest and dug his fingers harshly into his ribs, using the pain to help keep it at bay. He was never going to escape it, was he? Damon said he was 'special', but if he was special it was only because he was some special kind of freak of nature.

Stefan stood up abruptly, throwing **their** weight off his back and drawing the others' attention. He walked around the sofa and to the shelf where Salvatore sat, swimming unburdened and clueless around his bowl. He'd need to feed the fish soon. Stefan squeezed his eyes closed. He could have _drained_ Bonnie's Bennett magic and he wouldn't have even known or cared, because it had felt so good, even just what little his body had managed to siphon from the unexpecting witch had eased the terrible spasms in his stomach. And he craved more, just like his former vampire days.

"Stefan?" Alaric's voice held concern and yet he stayed distant.

Stefan squeezed his eyes shut, that action or lack of, was like a sucker punch to his broken rib and he barely managed to swallow the resulting whimper back down. Alaric's withdrawal, his avoidance of the teen was more painful than his little appointment in the bathroom. He swallowed thickly. "Will it fix it?" he asked in a distant voice. "The hunger?"

"Yes," Bonnie answered, risen from the couch and feeling steadier. "With the regular intake of magic, it'll return back to normal, like when you were first brought back."

Stefan nodded his head in acceptance and turned from Salvatore. He walked across the parlor to the side table the held the tray of decanters and picked a clean tumbler glass. "It's probably better if I don't drink directly from the vein with my... tendency to get excited." His gaze flickered over to Alaric; Stefan understood that there was only so much someone could handle and his past didn't paint a very pretty picture and this... Stefan was human now but had anything really changed? He was back to drinking blood to survive; well, not necessarily _blood_ just the magic that it contained, but it was still the same—he still felt that deep, addictive hankering. He wasn't going to force the dirty-blond to stay in this relationship just because he was so damn needy. Stefan held out the silver letter opener to his brother that he'd taken from the shelf, who raised a single brow but took it.

"Couldn't get enough of it the first time, huh?" Damon drew the blunted knife across the palm of his hand with enough pressure to cut through the skin and squeezed his hand around it to keep the wound open and bleeding.

Stefan's breath hitched as he watched the dark red liquid dribble into the tumbler he held, his gaze fixated. It wasn't as if he could smell it, not as if it tasted pleasant in this form, yet his mouth watered, he filled with anticipation as the tumbler grew heavier in his hand. It was like everything else faded to the background and he could hear every drop just like it used to be.

Finally, the glass 2/3 full, Damon unclenched his hand and withdrew the letter opener, letting the last few drops of blood drip from the edge of his palm into glass as the wound healed. Stefan's gaze was momentary pulled from the filled tumbler as Damon rose his hand to his mouth and licked away the blood. Stefan felt his hunger lick hot in his excited belly, his desire shifting him onto the balls of his bare feet, his green eyes clouded dark.

Damon's dropped his hand and his lips drew up into a smirk as he lifted the bloodied letter opener to his lips and drew his tongue across one side, licking his own blood clean from the silver. But instead of simply turning the opener for the other side, he pulled his hand back and pressed the bloody edge against the teen's lips, his blue gaze penetrating as he waited, head slightly cocked; catnip had nothing on Stefan and blood. Gaze still trained on the mark of blood on his brother's bottom lip, Stefan stilled at the touch of the bloodied knife, his breathing ceased.

Bonnie had watched the proceedings open-mouthed. She didn't know what she was expecting but it certainly wasn't this. Not that she'd ever witnessed it in real life (other than Stefan drinking butcher shop animal blood out of a plastic bottle after Damon had literally ripped his liver out), but she always figured that feeding for vampires was a intimate, sexual thing—even at its most base of blurring into a dark alley and fangs converging on the homeless man behind the dumpster despite the gore and death of it.

And despite that she knew this wasn't _sexual_ between the brothers, there was an intimacy to it; Damon's natural cockiness, Stefan's blood lustful expression at the thought, sight and taste of the blood. It was like surfing the internet in the library and a porn website pop-up add, with her quickly caught between quickly exiting out and just looking at it a little longer. She was a teenage girl, who had never had a serious boyfriend in high school and was still a virgin at 17 unlike Elena and Caroline; she had urges like everybody else and curiosities, so sue her! It said something very sad about her life that Elena's love life was better than hers. And she would admit, reluctantly, grudgingly, silently and under the pain of torture that Damon had a bad boy hotness; and she'd already verbalized how yummy she thought Stefan _back_ was when they saw him at school for the first time (which she had realized later after finding out he was a vampire and the hearing abilities that came with it, that he'd embarrassingly _heard_ her say it at the time)—but she supposed everything with vampires could be sexualized; that was 21st century entertainment for you. Damon had that obnoxious, sexual, predatory grace, and even Stefan on animal blood had had a sexual, lethal grace about him... and this was all very off topic.

Bonnie managed to pull her gaze away and glanced over to the bampi, who hadn't budged an inch, yet his fists were clenched so tightly they shook. She could see the shadows about his eyes, his anger triggering his true-face. She wondered why Stefan chose to drink Damon's blood instead of Alaric's and wondered how long Alaric’s control would last before he gave into that heightened possessive vampire nature and snapped Damon's neck.

Stefan was having an internal struggle. It was like his body was locked up by an invisible force and he was thrust back to that night in the library when Katherine had bypassed the threshold barrier by him having unknowingly consumed her blood. With her blood on his lips, despite himself, he trusted her at her word and simply wanting to taste the blood _so_ bad. He had been so weak in that moment and she'd taken perfect advantage.

And now, it was almost as if his brother _knew_. Damon was mocking him, teasing him... testing him? Once Damon had let go of his propriety of trying to cover for Ripper Stefan in their early days of vampirism and undulated his way into the nature of his vampirism, his natural charm and charisma worked just as well as compulsion. He just had a way of seducing you, drawing you in, turn you into his line of thinking, convincing you to do things you didn't want to do or the thing you didn't _know_ you really wanted to do.

Almost like now, it was his brother's honeyed words that convinced Stefan he could feed on a human in 1912 like a proper vampire, they were never more wrong. He only held a fraction of the blame on his brother because it had just been Damon being Damon. No, Stefan was the one who had been weak, who couldn't control his own urges, his own hunger despite knowing full well what was inside of him, that terrible darkness, the monster and he'd done it anyways—he _knew_ and yet did so anyways.

Stefan's hunger warred with his self-respect; his hunger told him not to waste a drop, each drib was precious, that that missed one could have been the one that sated his ravenous hunger but the integral part him argued that it he didn't need to be greedy or desperate anymore—he didn't need the blood from the blade, not when he had a full tumbler of blood right here in his hand.

He wasn't a vampire anymore, he didn't have to be desperate anymore. He didn't have to demean himself like that anymore. This would normalize his hunger, give him a healthy appetite. That's what he wanted, wasn't it? This would give him that normality, finally free of the hunger that drove on the Ripper.

Stefan exhaled, the tension leaving him. The tip of his tongue just barely grazed the surface of the blood before he pulled back, regaining his composure and dignity. "Nice try, you almost had me."

Damon just shrugged nonchalantly at the accusation. "You're doing better already, brother." He dropped backward into the upholstered chair behind him gracefully, crossing his leg over the other and drew the remaining bloodied side across his tongue. "Well, drink up. Wouldn't want all that Damon-magic to evaporate now," he teased, twirling the cleaned blade between his fingers.

Stefan rolled his eyes but rose the tumbler to his lips. He closed his eyes at the first gulp, his general human thirst awakening at the introduction of liquid form. The blood was tepid, yet he could feel the _warmth_ in his belly as he continued to drink, could feel it spread like a soothing balm to all his aches and pains (much like Bonnie's brief introduction of magic had done), vanishing them. He felt a swell of emotion in his chest, wanting to sob at his body's freedom from all that pain, his overwrought stomach settling, the hunger dying down to a dull roar that nearly left him light-headed. He paced the swallows, relishing as he felt the magic, as his body healed.

Alaric's gaze was fixed on the brunette’s face as he drank, watched the lines of stress, exhaustion, pain, hunger, hopelessness erase from his expression. Watched as colour returned to his cheeks and the strain in his shoulders ease. It eased something inside of the vampire, yet the knot of jealousy persisted and his own continued helplessness and shame continued to buzz inside of him. _Why didn't Stefan want **my** blood?_ was the question he silently harboured but was too embarrassed and ashamed to voice because the answer was immediate: _how could he trust you when the last time he sought your blood you threw him across the room? You cracked bone, you marked skin, you added to his pain, weight to his burden. The thing you feared most of doing, you did_ — _you hurt the man you love! What use have you when Damon can give him all the blood he needs? **What use?**_

"How do you feel?" Bonnie finally asked after silently watching Stefan for a moment, but still trained a keen eye on him. After all, this was all just some wild theory of hers, and wouldn't be the first time she was wrong, seeing as this was happening in the first place. She took the empty, blood-ring tumbler from his hand and set it on the side table next to her water, which he silently asked for. "Your rib?"

He drained the rest of the glass appreciatively, finally wetting his thirsty palate and washing away the taste of blood. "All healed up." Stefan pulled back the side of Alaric's sweater that was still unzipped, revealing his side and the now unmarked skin.

"And your hunger?"

"It's eased off considerably, but I'm still hungry."

"That's to be expected," Bonnie nodded. "You haven't eaten in nearly 4 days. The blood is just a small part of your diet now, like taking vitamins in the morning. You still need to eat food like any other human, just not what you used to eat."

"Thank you, Bonnie." He pulled the witch to his chest in an embrace. "I mean that." He honestly couldn't put into words the emotion, the relief at not having that vicious, fathomless hunger holding him prisoner any longer.

"Let's just see if it actually works first, I've been wrong before."

"No kidding," Damon spoke up derisively.

Bonnie stepped back out of Stefan's arms and ignored the elder Salvatore. "With the regular intake of magic, it'll regulate you. And perhaps, maybe in time with the culmination of vampire blood and its abilities, it'll heal over your faulty vital force and you won't need magic at all."

"Can he still become a vampire?" Alaric asked quietly and the room descended into silence, every gaze bore into pore Bonnie. But Stefan turned his gaze away, a harsh lump in his throat.

Bonnie gave the brunette a sad look. "I don't know," she admitted.

"You should get something on your stomach," Alaric suddenly spoke up. "I'll make you something."

Stefan's head snapped up but the vampire was gone before he could even get a word out. There was finally a solution to his hunger and he was damned if he was going to lose the man he loved in the same turn! Without a word, Stefan stormed after the teacher, his fists clenched angrily as his sides. His gait was even and strong, his wounds healed from his brother's blood.

Alaric stood at the stove slowly stirring the contents of the small pot over the flame with a wooden spoon. "It's just cream of wheat," the dirty-blond didn't look up, "It'll be filling but light on your stomach. You can eat something more solid a little later."

Stefan said nothing, there wasn't even a pause in his stride as he stalked up to the man, the two-way kitchen door swinging closed behind him—and shoved the vampire with all the strength afforded to his newly healed body. With a shout of surprise, the vampire was taken completely unprepared and stumbled frantically back from the stove through the empty food containers that still littered the floor and grabbed himself on the counter by the fridge.

"S--" Alaric started, but the brunette's name died in his throat as he saw the furious indignation alit on Stefan's face.

"What the hell are you waiting for then? Don't think you have to stick around because you feel sorry for me because I don't need your pity. Stay or go, but don't you fucking dare think that you can pull your punches with me!" even through his hot anger, Stefan saw the involuntary flinch across Alaric's face at the last of his words—and the realized catalyst was like a ton of bricks. "You idiot," he whispered, it laced with both love and frustration. "You think by pulling away, shutting me out, that that's going assuage your guilt at hurting me—but I can tell you from experience that it doesn't fucking help one bit, but helps you to continue hurting the ones you love, Ric."

Alaric shook his head. "I _hurt_ you. I _bruised_ \--"

"You think your the first person I love who's left me with bruises?" Stefan scoffed in interruption, ignoring the vampire's cringe at the harsh words. "Bruises fade. You want to know what doesn't? When the person you love shuns you, rejects you—that's the true hurt, the true bruise."

"I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this," Alaric uttered in hopeless confession and the wall Stefan had been trying to steadfastly build around his heart on the approach to this very conversation, crumbled instantly at those words. "How much more my fucking heart can take before that switch is just too damn tempting to resist?" Stefan was shaking his head in silent denial and Alaric took a step forward. He reached out and laid a slightly trembling hand on Stefan's bare chest through the open zipper of his sweater, he could feel each beat of the teen's heart like a warm pulse through his undead blood. "How much longer can you knock on Death's Door before he finally answers and takes you away with him?" his fingers flexed against his strong chest and he gritted his teeth against the overwhelming dread at the prospect.

"I'm right here," Stefan placed his warm hand over Alaric's cool one. "Still alive, still fighting. I will _always_ fight, Ric."

"You resigned yourself to die!" Alaric shouted in denial. "You knew you were dying all this time and you kept silent, you kept it secret—you just decided by yourself not to give us a fighting chance. And _don't_ ," he pulled his hand from under Stefan’s with a sneer of anger on his lips, " _Don't_ you fucking dare say you did it to protect us because that's just the selfish and cowardly way out."

"Yes," Stefan whispered quietly in admittance after a moment of heavy silence. He stared at his clenched hand for a second before it dropped to his side and he looked up at the vampire. "Yes, I suspected I was deteriorating and it scared me so ignored it; I concluded that it was slow, slow enough that I could have this Christmas with you and Damon and tell you after and it wouldn't have mattered. And when I _ran away_ it was because you two tried to make me face that reality and I couldn't do it, not then, _I didn't want to_! And it was as I was out there that I decided I could do this, live like _this_ ," he gestured to himself, to his human body, "That it was _my_ choice. I didn't _ask_ to be like this, but I accepted it for myself—and everything that came with it. And what about you...?" A smell of slight burning drew his attention away and Stefan turned to the stove, quickly turning off the flame and removing the bubbling pot from the burner. He stirred the contents, steam rising and he lifted the wooden spoon it his lips in hunger. "Do you still love me, despite my many imperfections? I don't have a simple past. Too much has happened, I've seen too much, I've done too much. I try to be good, I try to make things easier for others by taking their burdens, I ignore my own so they just grow heavier and heavier making it all the more easier for them to break me. Happy has been such a stranger to me for the longest time, its almost like a foreign body. I have little moments, but they quickly become overshadowed—but to have my big brother back, to have you in my life... I _am_ happy." Stefan sat the empty pot back onto the stove, a burnt layer of cream of wheat coating the bottom. He had that switch again, the one that told him his hunger was _sated_. "Can you still love me, despite my imperfections?"

"They make me love you more." Alaric croaked, his voice logged in emotion. "So much that sometimes I'm physically incapable of catching my breath and the mere _thought_ that I might lose you, might never get to tell you 'I love you' again, of looking into your forest green eyes, of seeing your smile, hearing your laugh—the thought of never being able to _touch_ you again, drives me to insanity!" he shoved his fingers into his hair, pulling at the dirty-blond strands.

"Then touch me!" Stefan turned on him passionately. "I may be human now but I'm more durable than I look so don't pull back, don't hold back." His palm slammed against the vampire's chest and he grabbed a fist full of his t-shirt's material, and jerked him against him. "Don't let me forget the feel of you; against me, inside of me!"

Alaric gave a sharp pant, his blue eyes blazing and grasped Stefan's head, their lips crashing together. Stefan gasped against him as the vampire kissed him heatedly, rocking slightly forward on the balls on his feet and against firm flesh in front of him. Alaric's tongue was savage and feverent and Stefan instantly surrendered to him, hands fisted in his shirt to keep him close. All too soon, but needed, Alaric pulled back slightly and Stefan attempted to catch his breath, his skin warm with arousal, knees feeling weak from that kiss, his green eyes dark with lust.

Seeing him like that, able to feel the height of his arousal by the warmth of his skin made the vampire _hungry_. He pushed the unzipped sweater from Stefan’s bare shoulders where it fell to the kitchen floor amid the scattered containers, before he palmed the nape of his neck and his other the small of his back, unable to resist devouring him again in another kiss. He lowered them so smoothly to the floor, laying Stefan back on his fallen sweater, that the teen didn't even realize the elevation change until Alaric started to kiss down his neck and he opened his eyes to find himself staring at the ceiling.

Stefan smirked, fingers tangled in dirty-blond locks; how man times had he wanted Ric to take him in this kitchen? How many times had they started, only to be interrupted? If Damon got it into his head to be funny again, they would really kill him this time; Alaric would snap his neck in a blur and Stefan would happily push him down the basement stairs. Stefan gave a little gasp, his hips rocking off the floor seeking friction from above in response as Alaric teased his nipple with tongue and teeth, his finger tightening in his hair, feeling the sensual scrape of his stubble.

Alaric gave a light chuckle at the reaction, but his lips became more sombre, reverent as he kissed along Stefan's right side recently healed, much as the brunette had done to him when he came back from his first death via the Gilbert ring and healed from the stake wound. Stefan stroked his head, squeezing his nape warmly as the vampire just paused for a moment and rested his cheek on his abdomen.

"I'm right here," Stefan murmured, "I'm not going anywhere." Alaric rose his head and gazed at him, his blue gaze a collection of love, fear, relief, hunger, contrition and want. "I'm here, Ric." He stroked his cheek. "I'm yours."

"Bonnie said you might not be able to become a vampire again." He rasped.

Stefan expression softened. "That doesn't matter right now, we have the _time_. Right now I only want to think about you, _be_ with _you_." His thumb brushed the corner of his mouth and Alaric turned his head and pressed his lips against the thrumming pulse in his wrist, eyes slipping closed.

When he opened them, they were darkened once again with lust and hunger. Alaric, licked the inside of his wrist before giving the sensitive skin a little nip. He leaned back, hands brushing down Stefan's hips before his cool fingertips danced along the skin at the top of his waistband. They met in the middle and leaned up on his elbows, Stefan watched him unbuckled the metal clasp, exposing the button beneath. Alaric pushed the button free and slowly withdrew the zipper. Stefan could have sworn he was able to hear the individual teeth as they were freed in his sudden hyper awareness, his hips wiggling slight in the growing anticipation. His cock hadn't been touched, skin-on-skin in such a long time, not since he'd turned human. There had been frottage; hot, orgasmic, lots-of-laundry clothed encounters, but Alaric had not once touched his cock.

Alaric curled his fingers around the edge of both jean and boxer-briefs and Stefan obligingly lifted his hips, gasping lightly as the material dragged over his sensitive cock before finally freeing the erect appendage. He couldn't stop the little whimper as he saw Alaric lick his lips at the sight of him like he was the big bad wolf and Stefan was one of the 3 pigs under him. The vampire sat back, pulling the pants the rest of the way off, leaving Stefan laid out in front of him aroused and _almost_ completely naked. He took a hold of the teen's right ankle and unwound the wrap and pressed a tender kiss to the healed base of his heel.

"You better not have developed a foot fetish," he gave a light, slightly awkward chuckle.

Alaric looked at him with a straight expression, his thumb brushing over the still-sensitively healed skin making Stefan's toes curl and his foot jolt. "Are your feet ticklish, Stefan?" the following smirk was absolutely devilish.

Stefan narrowed his eyes. "They're not,"

Alaric just pressed a kiss to his ankle in amusement before releasing the limb. His fingertips brushed feather light up his thighs and without warning ducked forward.

"Oh, god!" Stefan cried out in pleasure as he suddenly found himself enveloped in Alaric's mouth. He fell back with a moan, his hips jolting up to follow the mouth as it bobbed and sucked and licked, and Stefan was just bombarded with the sensations for a very intense minute. He didn't want it to stop but he was gonna cum, but he couldn't cum, he didn't want to cum!

"No, no, no." Stefan reached out blinding, grabbed a fistful of dirty-blond strands—and yanked, pulling the vampire from his weeping cock, both literally and figuratively. He sat up, flushed and panting. "You don't off that easy." He released the vampire, his sclera rimmed red and climbed to his feet, his full cock bobbing between his legs. Alaric shook his head, trying to clear it some, get the echo of Stefan's pulsing cock from his tongue and rose to his own feet, his eyes cleared but still confused. Stefan grabbed a bottle from beside the spice rack. "I want you inside of me when I come." He slammed the glass bottle of extra virgin olive oil onto the island counter.

Alaric stared at him for but an instant before he was slamming the teen back against the counter edge, his move laced with vampire-speed, kissing him desperately, his own cock achingly hard and still confined in his jeans. Stefan's hands shoved under his shirt, his blunt nails leaving red welts that instantly vanished into the small of his back. Alaric broke off long enough to yank his shirt off overhead, ripping some of the material, and fingers surprisingly deft given the excitable situation, Stefan managed to undo his jeans before the teacher shoved them down and kicked them off—finally springing himself free.

Stefan looked at it with his own hunger, but before he could do more than simply devour the thick cock with his eyes, Alaric grabbed his shoulders and this time with purposeful vamp-speed, spun him round and pushed him chest-first onto the island countertop. The next thing the teen knew, he was choking on his own breath as Alaric crouched behind him and spread his cheeks—and licked him from the back of the balls up to his hole, making his hips buck ineffectually against the side of the cupboard. Alaric tongue stimulated his tight ring with deft jabs of his tongue, preparing him for his fingers, causing him to mewl.

"Ric!"

Alaric finally rose and took the bottle of oil. He pulled the cork from the bottle and poured some onto his fingers. Hand on Stefan's hip, he pressed a kiss to the brunette's tailbone, his greased finger encircling his ring before he started to breach. Alaric stroked his flank, pressing light kisses to his spine, breathing words into his skin, easing him as he took his finger, letting his body adjust before he slowly started to pump his finger.

Stefan's breath stuttered; god, it had been such a long time. But that wasn't completely it, either. This body didn't quite responded as his old vampire body did, because this body never knew this treatment. He'd only started sleeping with men _after_ he became a vampire. This body, his _human_ body, never had that experience—technically, he was an anal virgin. Right now, Ric was going to take his virginity. Such a _happy_ emotion swelled in his chest at the thought and moisture clouded his eyes in _joy._ He pushed back excitably on his finger, taking the vampire by surprise and stroking his prostate.

"Easy," Alaric hissed, afraid to go too fast, it had been a while for both of them and now that they were finally at this point, he was afraid of hurting him with their switched conditions.

"Don't hold back," Stefan reminded him. "Another finger."

After another stroke, Alaric did. Stefan hips undulated back, taking him in with a pleased gasp. Alaric started to pump, picked up speed as Stefan started to loosen, scissoring his fingers, purposefully stroking his prostate infrequently. It was like stoking a flame; Stefan's skin growing warmer and warmer until it felt like a hot coal. Alaric just wanted to drape across him like a lizard sunning on a sunned rock. He didn't need prompting to add the third, stretching him completely.

"Stop," Stefan finally gasped, on his last legs, not able to hold on much longer before he just exploded with cum. "I want you in me!"

Alaric retrieved his fingers and using more oil, coated his eager, aching cock. "I'm here, I'm here." He shuddered in anticipation. He guided his cock to Stefan's entrance, his hand pressing into the back of the teen's hip in a move to steady them both. His weeping head pressed against the tight, oiled sphincter briefly before it passed through and the vampire gasped sharply.

Stefan threw his head back, a long, low groan leaving him in one unstoppable, drawn out sound as Alaric pushed into him at a both an agonizingly delicious and frustratingly slow pace. He fingers clenched at the counter edges and bide himself not to thrust back and impale himself fully on Alaric's cock. This was Alaric's first time having sex as a vampire—with a human to boot—this would be an ultimate test of his control and Stefan didn't want to be the one to shatter the pane even after Alaric was fully seated.

Alaric's fangs released in a instant, his sclera flooding with blood making everything all the more sharper, all the more intense, a low growl tearing from him. It was both euphoric and a curse. He was drawn _in_ to the place like with the snow angels, but this was more powerful than even that as he became a part of it through one of his most delicate and pleasing instruments. All his could hear was the rush of blood, like a waterfall pounding against his body. Stefan's heartbeat like the thumping of a bass drum through his bones, making him ache. He could almost feel as if his own undead heart echoed the beat. It was so beautiful, peaceful, like a womb; he wanted to stay here forever.

This was a test of Stefan own control. " _Ric._ " A small whine escaped the back of his throat unbidden, sweat beaded on his skin with the continued strain of _not_ moving, scarcely breathing. And his body betraying his mind, his muscles spasmed around his intrusion and gave a small cry as his prostate was brushed with the barest of touch.

Alaric hissed, his fingertips pressing marks into the flesh under them, his hips jolting forward in answering response.

"Yes," Stefan panted.

Stefan was so preciously tight, it was all Alaric could do not to pound into him violently and without stop—but that was exactly what Stefan wanted. Oh, god, how _they_ wanted. Stefan unclenched his fingers from the counter edge and reached back, fingers digging into the vampire thigh. "You have to _move_ , Ric. _I need you to move_!" he nearly sobbed.

Alaric pulled back in response, before his hips punched forward sharply, blessedly, making Stefan grunt. "You're so _tight,_ " Alaric groaned as he continued to thrust. "You feel so good, Stef. So fucking _warm_."

Stefan pulled his arms under him, his forearms taking his weight and making it easier for him to absorb the power behind Alaric's thrusting. He came all too soon with a shout, jolting as his came against the cupboard siding, but Alaric didn't stop and he found himself easily growing hard again as his prostate was continually stimulated. He may not have been a vampire any longer, but the refractory period of a teenager was just about level.

Alaric licked the sweat from between the teen's heaving shoulder blades, pressed kisses to the heated skin, his stubble brushing against the skin, his fangs nipping much to Stefan's pleasure. He couldn't remember the last time he'd pounded into someone so tirelessly, but then he could barely remember what it was like to sleep with Isobel; Stefan was the one he loved and lusted for now. He was reminded of Stefan's little speech about hunger and lust, and masturbation; oh, how masturbation had done _nothing_ to touch the lust that flooded his veins, but the Stefan also divulged to him, that coming multiple times worked eventually but what the teen had come to realize was that if he held out on the _completion_ as it swamped over him and let the orgasms rack and build and collide, then that _one_ made the impact. Alaric had barely held off on coming himself when he felt Stefan go with a familiar shudder around him.

"I want to _devour_ you," Alaric panted harshly into his ear and Stefan moaned his approval on the matter.

During sex as a vampire, Stefan could never just let himself be taken over by the passion, let the pleasure overwhelm him lest he vamped-out, lost control and tore into his lover's neck where that beautiful, pulsing artery lay. But that was something he no longer had to concern himself with; he could forget himself now and not to be afraid to lose his control. He bowed into his carnal desire for the first time in 145 years and he forgot about Damon and Bonnie in the parlor and left himself be consumed by the man he loved.

Alaric wanted to so bad, needed to even as he was sure he shouldn't; but overriding thought on his hesitance was that it was Damon's blood in Stefan's veins and Alaric needed it to be _his_ blood. Needed to have him claim on his boyfriend, _in_ him. And his upper lip pulled back and with a low hungry snarl, sank his fang into flesh.

Stefan shuddered against in a wordless cry as he orgasmed for the second time, as a second warm fluid, even more precious than the first, flooded into Alaric's mouth. The vampire's hips slammed tight against Stefan and his own orgasm crashed pleasurably over him as he drank, able to vividly feel every muscle twitch and spasm going through the brunette beneath him.

Stefan hummed at the feel of Alaric's come filling him; it was cooler than he was used to, but not unpleasant. Alaric only drank a couple mouthfuls of delicious warmth before pulled out his fangs, carefully licking the blood from the wound and watched as it stopped bleeding and clotted, but did **not** heal. Just like when Stefan had the allergic reaction to the nutmeg and drank Damon's blood, it immediately healed the present wound of anaphylaxis and the cut on his palm before shelving the rest of the magical properties into restoring the deteriorating cells; but when Stefan had been injured _later_ with stepping on a piece of glass, that would didn't heal. So the blood would heal the present wounds on his body upon immediate digestion, but if he was injured _later_ on that same dose of blood, he didn't heal.

He pressed a kiss to the skin below it before he rose, a hand gently kneading the small of Stefan's back as Alaric carefully pulled himself out; Stefan's exhale hissing lightly. Stefan slowly pushed himself up, his muscles trembling lightly, still taken with post-orgasm spasms, each a soft shock of pleasure going through him. He just wanted to lay down and cuddle and sleep in Alaric's arms but he supposed that was the price to pay for wild kitchen sex. Alaric guided him around to lean back against the cupboard. He stroked the sweaty locks away from his temple as Stefan smiled at him. Blue eyes clear, but fangs still out, Alaric pierced his tongue and leaned in, cupping his nape. He gave Stefan a slow, open kiss, giving the teen a mouthful of blood, replacing what he took. Stefan took it willingly, not like in his dream with Katherine.

Stefan wrapped his arms around the sweaty torso, holding the vampire close for just a moment. "I love you," Stefan whispered into his skin.

"I'm right here," he repeated the words, stroking Stefan's flank.

"Will you come sleep with me?"

"It's not even noon," he said in mild amusement.

Stefan leaned back to look at him. "I didn't sleep at all last night," he admitted quietly. "I was too busy--" _hallucinating from the pain and hunger_ "Either remembering or simply losing my mind." He gave his head a confused little shake. "Will you come back to bed?"

Alaric nodded. "I shouldn't have left in the first place."

"I don't care as long as you come back. Promise me you'll always come back."

"I promise," Alaric pressed a sealing kiss to his forehead. They cleaned themselves up with the paper towel roll and pulled on their scattered clothes. "Hungry?"

Stefan nodded and Alaric made him some toast with crunchy peanut butter and a cup of that tea he liked. After eating, the pair cleaned up the scattered containers, took a Swiffer to the floor and washed the island. Before departing from the kitchen, the couple shared a briefly heated kiss that flushed Stefan's cheeks again to the teacher's pleasure and pushed through the swing door, with the intention of heading upstairs for a much needed shower—only for the pair to stop short in the hall, just as abruptly as Elena.

"Elena!" Stefan said in surprise. He shot a quick glance at Alaric, a slight uncomfortable embarrassment creeping up his chest; he was still sensitive towards Elena’s feelings towards them but he couldn't control this current encounter where he practically glowed with the spit-shine of post coitus.

But she didn't appear to notice that detail as her gaze scoured the former vampire for injury. "Bonnie called me and I came straight down." She explained. "She said you were hurt, but you're healed now?" she took a step closer.

Stefan nodded in assurance. "She even found a solution to my hunger," he smiled. "I just ate."

"Good," Elena said quietly, her worried frown easing slightly—right before her brown eyes blazed angrily and she slapped him across the face with a furious expression.

"Elena," he said a little breathlessly, completely unprepared for her slap.

"How could you?!" she demanded. "How could you keep something like this a secret from everyone after everything that's happened? After all the times we've nearly lost you— _did_ lose you—already these past couple months?" he just shook his head helplessly in the face of her wrath. "You idiot!" her palms slammed against his chest, before they fisted the material of his zipper hoodie. All the fury just seemed to drain from her body and she suddenly looked so small and fragile as tears welled in her eyes and she choked on a sob. Her arms suddenly wound around his ribs, her hands clutching at the material on his back and she tried to stifle her cries in the crook of his neck.

Stefan hesitated for an instant because he smelled like sex and he still had Alaric's semen in him and he didn't want to add more to the pain he'd already caused, before his arms wrapped comfortingly around her slim, trembling body.

"I'm okay," he pressed a kiss to her hair, gently rocking her; he could still feel the ache of Ric inside of him. "I'm okay." And he really was this time. He went through a lot of pain and heartache, but he thought he'd finally gotten there. "I’m okay."

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it looks like Stefan’s going to be alright, on the little condition of him still drinking blood. And everything else seems to have come to a happy ending—at least presently [*devilish grin*]. Don’t worry, the end is not yet here, there is still much I wish to do with this story. Thank you all for keeping with me this far and the awesome reviews, stay tuned.


	19. CHAPTER 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some smut, fluff, unrequited and teenage-fill-in-the-blank-no-spoilers drama. + Stefan(&)|(/)Elena.

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

"Are you done soothing that infernal tick of your maternal clock yet?" Damon snarked as he passed his brother, pouring himself a drink. "All those warm and fuzzies would be better spent on a certain receptive warm-blooded bitch that might actually return some modicum of affection."

"I hope by 'bitch' you're referring to a dog." Stefan sent him a glower as he sat Salvatore's bowl on the shelf. He didn't just want the leave the comet goldfish alone in the dark all night, so he'd come to the parlor to leave him in the company of an angel. "If you want a dog, stop trying to use me as an excuse to not show _your_ own more sensitive side and just get one yourself. But don't think I'm going to pick up the slack when your forget to feed it or take it out, your a big boy now and you have to learn to take responsibility. Nurture your own maternal clock," he smirked as he turned to his brother.

"Remember that time you drained a dog?" was Damon's response.

Stefan's jaw tightened; he remembered vividly. Such calculated, predatory control on draining the mutt completely. The _pain_ and emotional suffering that prompted it. The man responsible. "I don't want to think about John Gilbert," he still had no idea of the fate of said man, and didn't much feel inclined to seek an answer. Knowing his brother, Stefan could only assume he was dead. The only regret he could muster on the matter was that Elena had lost another member to her already dwindled family.

"Even when you're practically engaged to the guy?"

Stefan looked at him sharply even if confused. "What?"

Damon just rose his left hand in response, knuckles facing outward and wiggled his empty ring finger beside his lapis lazuli ring. Stefan instantly blanched as he stared at the Gilbert ring adorning his finger; its ownership was right there in its name. It had been in the family since 1864 when Emily had secretly spelled this ring and another for Jonathan Gilbert; the rings had been passed down to the Gilbert Council members since; this generation it having gone to the Gilbert brothers Grayson and John Gilbert. John had given his ring to Isobel, who had given it to Alaric, while John had reclaimed the other ring after Grayson died at Wickery Bridge the fateful night Stefan had saved Elena.

And how it came onto his own finger... Stefan swallowed.

He clenched his hand and slowly closed the distance between him and his brother, his steps even and punctuating each word: "Want to know the truth of how this ended up on my finger?... Our dear, darling, evil ex, brother. As she mocked us with desecrated marriage vows, right before she fed Ric her blood and crushed his windpipe while I was helpless to stop her. Should I continue the story or don't you already know its end?" he mocked just as cruelly back.

Damon was ashen, and Stefan only saw the minute tremble in his hand holding the tumbler because he was searching for it. Stefan came to a stop in front of him and each somewhat shaken by the words exchanged, they silently regarded each other. And though no further words were spoken, a significant amount was being said.

Despite it being labelled the Gilbert ring, Stefan always associated it with _Ric_ , it was _his_ ring, not John Gilbert's; he forfeited that right when he presented it to Isobel. And this ring was the only reason he was here right now, twice over. It had been his link to Emily on the Other Side, which Bonnie would have been unable to bring him back period without her connection to her ancestor's magic. And it had saved his life, unknown to them all until 5 days ago; had sustained him throughout his fevered state in the hospital. It would still yet do the same; Bonnie having imbued it with inactive magic for him to absorb as needed with his cup of vampire blood each day to continue to maintain his life force and control his hunger.

Damon threw back his glass, emptying it in a swallow. He refreshed the glass and held it out to the brunette. Stefan accepted the offering and drained it, appreciating the burn and taste even though bourbon wasn't his preferred whiskey; he liked the smoky taste from the peat in single malt Scotch whisky and lighter tones compared to sweetness cut of bourbon.

Both brothers were quiet in the moment, absorbing and processing the previous encounter without malice. It was a tradition between them that they had concocted on December 31 before the New Year that allowed them to air an grievance with the other to expend some steam, without consequence or held grudge; to be forgiven, forgotten, or addressed in the New Year.

"Alright?"

"Yeah. You?"

Damon gave a short nod, but... "Do you...?" he wondered.

Stefan considered his brother seriously for a moment. "I'm sure I would find issue with whatever you mete out to John Gilbert, but I honestly don't care to know—that part of my life is over."

"Good." Damon clapped him on the shoulder.

Stefan set the empty tumbler back on the tray. "If you're done pre-drinking, we can go? You known with an event this size, ‘fashionably late’ isn't really a thing." Everyone was already at the park; Alaric, like the other teachers, had been netted to help set up with the Student Council and other town volunteers. "Perhaps I could drive," he added slyly, knowing it was just the thing to kick his brother into action as he started for the front hall.

"One," Damon told him, an arm slung over his brother's taller shoulders as he guided him from the Boarding House, "You will never get behind the wheel of my car until I'm a crisp piece of undead vamp-meat; second, it'll least of all happen with alcohol in your system." He patted him on the chest and left the amused teen on the passenger side and went around to the driver's himself, keys in hand.

"Did that ease the infuriating tick of _your_ maternal clock?"

"That reminds me," Damon shot over the soft top straight-faced, "I better not catch you with alcohol tonight."

Stefan just chuckled and got into the car. "Right, okay." If he knew Tyler at all, then alcohol was definitely going to be involved with the group.

"You were a little lamb when it came to your drink in your previous human life, Stefan, and that wasn't even the hard stuff, just wine." Damon reminded wryly as he started his car, the headlights further illuminating the driveway. "I'd take it easy with Lockwood unless you really miss the splitting headaches and puking..." He pulled down the curved drive. "There's something about that kid."

Stefan rolled his eyes. "He's just your run-of-the-mill high school jock; if only we could all have it so easy."

Now Damon rolled his eyes, accompanied by a snort of derision and they drove in silence, classic rock coming through the radio as the Chevy Camaro ate up the asphalt, the headlights flashing for just an instant over the darkness proceeding beyond the bordering woods.

The past 5 days had been a period of adjustment. Discovering the right amount of vampire blood that Stefan needed to consume each morning to both keep his body healthy and functioning and collaring his hunger, without exceeding his true magical appetite; which turned out to be 1 cup of blood. Bonnie also concluded, after some polite inquiries, that even if Alaric drank from him, the amount Stefan consumed needn't change as long as they took the same care as one did after donating blood. And Stefan finally got to take pleasure in actually eating the food he made and enjoy the flavours, to feel _full_. Though, granted, sometimes he had to consciously stop himself from overeating and at times the _silence_ from his baying hunger that he had carried with him the past 145 years was a bit disconcerting, before he relished in it. This was the kind of silence that he could stand. His nights had returned to deep and restful, Alaric on his side of the bed with absent another visit from the lapis-lazuli-Katherine hybrid—just another thing to write in his journal and move on from.

It was after 9 at night and the park was bustling with activity with most of the town. The BBQ and buffet was set up under the shelter; the scent of charcoal grill grilled meat enticing even as far as the filled parking lot. Children running around with 'Happy New Year' and '2010' helium balloons, sparklers lighting their gleeful expressions at being allowed out so late as their parents tried to keep them in sight. Popcorn and cotton candy carts, there was a face panting tent set up, even a few of the game stalls pulled out of town storage from past events. The sky was beautifully clear and dark with a crescent moon, perfect for fireworks.

Stefan's stomach was instantly enticed by the scent of the grill; he'd had a light supper around 4 for the strict fact that there was going to be BBQ, but he thought he should hold off until he at least found the others as he wandered up the path. Damon had immediately left him, but Stefan was started 5 minutes later as someone tugged on the back of his belt.

"Hey, what—!" Stefan tried to spin, but a firm hand on the back of his shoulder prevented him.

"Hold still," Damon said.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"There." Damon straightened and stepped back.

"What--?" Stefan started again, turning to face his brother—only to flinch as something gentle but unexpected bumped into the back of his head. He reached back and grabbed onto a 'Happy New Year' balloon.

"Now when you pass out from your delicate tolerance into a bush somewhere, someone is more likely to find you before you succumb to the chilly elements."

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"Nope. Just being practical." Damon gave his a cheeky grin, clap on the shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.

Stefan glowered after him and pulled on the balloon, only for the ribbon to go taut and produce the beginnings of a wedgie. He pulled harder in the hopes that the little discomfort would be worth it, but the ribbon still didn't snap. "Dammit, Damon."

"Whatcha doing?" familiar snickers sounded behind him.

Stefan released the balloon and turned, a scowl on his face as he swatted ineffectively at the balloon as it continued its assault against the back of his head. "Damon's idea of treating me like a kid."

"When you make such a cute face," Bonnie cooed at him, she pinched his cheek. The 2 girls burst into giggles at his expression. Annoyed, Stefan grabbed the balloon, pulling harder. The 3 teens all jumped as it suddenly popped, drawing a few looks.

"That's one way to do it," Elena commented dryly.

Stefan just gave a haughty look that made them chuckle again as he gathered the ribbon still attached to the back of his belt and stuffed it into his back pocket and dusted his hands. "Should have done that earlier."

Elena just shook her head. "Come on," she and Bonnie looped their arms through either of his and lead him further into the celebration. They got cotton candy and Stefan let them drag him to the face painting tent and pick his face. They took a group selfie; Bonnie as a ladybug, Elena a butterfly, and Stefan a lion. Stefan finally spotted Alaric, crouched at one of the game stalls surrounded by a bunch of little kids from 5 to 7 in paint, all in awe as they watched him win several goldfish from the shallow pool with little tissue paper nets (taking advantage of his vamp-speed).

"Thought this was where I would find you," Alaric mused casually as he came up behind the brunette at BBQ under the shelter. "First place I looked." He took a paper plate and started plating food. The grills had been turned off and there was only a small group left at a bench at the other side of the shelter.

Stefan glanced over from the condiments table and chuckled, "Those kids also use their adorableness to get you to paint your face as well as win their goldfish?"

Alaric glanced up, his face the black and white of a panda bear, with a raised brow, "What's your excuse?"

He shrugged. "Bonnie and Elena, who else?" he grabbed a soda from the cooler of ice and sat at an empty table.

Alaric finished his plate and sat across from the teen. "You'll let them do anything to you, wouldn't you?"

"What's the harm?" he glanced out around them, only able to hear laughter. "Lexi would always drag me out to things like these; concerts, carnivals, contests, drive-in theatres," he snorted fondly. "She always said that life might always be full of pain and death, and the greatest defiance we could ever give was love, finding the silver lining by living, laughing, and loving."

Alaric nudged his shoe against Stefan's boot under the table comfortingly. "Sound words from a wise woman."

"She certainly put a 1 or 2 needed bruise on my ass in her own time," Stefan agreed slyly, causing the vampire to choke unexpectedly on a chip. "Don't worry, you're the only other vampire I've slept with—though we did pretend to be married once or twice."

Alaric stole a drink unnoticed from Stefan’s soda. "That's definitely a story you'll have to share some time."

"That's pillow talk for later, cutie pie." Stefan whispered with a wink; Alaric was wearing the scarf he had gotten him and the brunette had to wilfully resist the temptation to reach across, grab either end and pull the teacher in for a hot kiss.

Alaric gulped, easily able to see the heated look in his eyes. "Definitely later," he agreed, rose and left, abandoning his plate.

Stefan chuckled to himself and finished his hamburger, hotdog and macaroni salad, and finished off Alaric's chips.

...

It was nearing midnight and the townspeople gathered around the pond, couples and families on blankets and folding chairs, parents with tuckered out children asleep in their laps. They did the countdown, the town clock tower chiming loudly as the clock struck and party poppers came to life as everyone cheered and fireworks came to light in the sky, kisses and hugs shared. There was a brief awkward moment between Stefan and Elena; he'd only meant to kiss her on the cheek, his arm around her shoulders but she'd turned and their lips accidentally connected. Bad timing. They quickly pulled apart, shared awkward glances and chuckles and turned back to watch the fireworks. It was shortly after that he departed discreetly from his friends with a short text to Alaric and met the vampire at his Tahoe.

Stefan had yet to be over to Alaric's apartment for the obvious reason, and he almost felt a little giddy now as the teacher shut and locked the apartment door behind them and reached around Stefan for the light switch. He stepped forward; the bathroom was to his right, an open kitchen to his left with an L-shaped breakfast bar separating it from the little nook with the breakfast table and the living room, at the end of the apartment was the only other door than the bathroom and had to lead through to the single bedroom. There was papers on the table, boxes of research, Alaric's laptop left out; a sweater thrown over the arm of the couch, historical knick-knacks. It _smelled_ like the vampire and Stefan loved it.

"This is exactly how I pictured it,"

"That a good or a bad thing?"

Stefan spun around and pushed the dirty-blond back against the door even as he grabbed the scarf and pulled him forward into a searing kiss. "Good," he told him. "Great." He released Alaric and stripped off his coat and his boots. He stepped back further and his flannel shirt followed to the floor. Alaric started to unwind the scarf but Stefan shook his head. "Leave it," he bit his bottom lip, pulling off his v-neck tee.

Alaric gave a low growl of arousal at the order and left the scarf, stripping from his jacket and stepping after the brunette. With a smirk, Stefan turned, starting on his belt clasp and Alaric caught sight of the silver ribbon knotted around the back of his belt. "What's this?" he automatically reached out and grabbed it, it running free through his fingers from Stefan's back pocket until he grasped the rubber remnants of the popped red balloon.

Stefan was jerked to a stop. "Damon."

"It's like... a leash." He started to pull on it, hand-over-hand, Stefan almost literally being pulled back across the short distance on his socks over the floor until they were back-to-chest.

Stefan turned in his arms. "And this, a collar." He tugged on it enticingly, nipping at his stubbled chin. "Except one has to go for us to get what we really want." Alaric let the ribbon drop from his fingers and brushed them over Stefan's hips to finish what the teen had started below the buckle. "Good choice." He cut off into a gasp when Alaric pushed his hand into his underwear and palmed his semi, which quickly hardened to full at the direct attention.

"Just one thing before we continue," Alaric squeezed him, making Stefan shudder and fist the material of his pullover.

"Yeah?" Stefan distractedly wiggled his hips.

"I can't screw you into my mattress with you looking like a lion."

Stefan's gaze snapped into focus and he blinked at the vampire, re-registering that Alaric was really a panda with beard stubble looking back at him—and it was just the most bizarre thing to experience that he burst out into laughter, clinging to the vampire.

Alaric huffed into his own laughter, pulling his hand free and hands on his hips, guided the giggling teen back to the bathroom. Alaric took off the scarf and hung it on the doorknob. They washed the face paint off with warm soapy cloths and dried their faces on the towel from the rack.

Stefan kissed him, nibbling Alaric's bottom lip before he pulled back. "Oh, yeah. Definitely better." He laid his hand flat against the vampire's chest and pushed his backward out from the bathroom and towards the bedroom. "Now where were we?"

Alaric quickly fumbled the light switch as they passed the bedroom threshold, turning on the lamp next to the bedside. Stefan quickly unzipped the dirty-blond, yanking his jeans and boxers down his thighs as he dropped to his knees in front of Alaric. He pushed the sweatshirt hem up his slightly hairy belly and took the vampire's hardness into his mouth without preamble.

"Stefan," Alaric groaned, his hips automatically jerking up to re-seek that wonderful wet warmness as Stefan's mouth bobbed on his cock.

Alaric pushed fingers into his thick locks, staring down, watching as his cock disappeared into that beautiful mouth, saliva shinning in the corners and hooded green eyes watched him back. The brunette was relentless, his hand taking care of what his mouth couldn't reach, his other reaching to fondle his balls. Alaric’s gave small, involuntary undulations of his hips, but they quickly became purposeful with a hum of encouragement from the recipient; this mouth was _his_ and no one else’s. And when Stefan deep-throated him, swallowing around his head and Alaric claimed it as his orgasm crashed over him and he jerked down Stefan's throat, cuming. _Mine._

Stefan slowly pulled off his momentarily flaccid cock, resting his temple against Alaric's thigh as the vampire stroked his head and he tried to catch his breath, licking his lips. Alaric could feel every puff cooling against the saliva on his appendage and it quickly stirred back to hardness. With a growl, Alaric pulled the teen up into a hungry kiss, tasting himself on Stefan's tongue. He turned them, pushing Stefan back onto his bed, kicking his jeans the rest of the way off and pulled his sweatshirt off overhead to throw away behind him.

Stefan pushed his open jeans down his hips, groaning at just the sight of Alaric naked and hard standing before him; Alaric grabbed the cuffs of his pant legs and pulled them the rest of the way off.

"Do you know how many times I've pictured you in this bed— _my bed_ —just like this, spread out, whimpering— _just for me_?"

Stefan whined softly, not just at the words, but at the lust darkened blue eyes devouring every inch of his body. It was still always like a brand new thrill to have someone desire him so hungrily; like this in bed and even when sex wasn't an option.

Stefan palm smoothed down his muscled stomach and wrapped around his flushed and weeping cock. Biting his lip with a groan, his knees falling open and exposing himself fully as he stroked himself, ready to come any moment now. And Alaric was on him in a blur with a possessive, hungry snarl that sent shivers of excitement through the teen; his fingers clenched in his hair, Alaric pulled Stefan's head back and buried his fangs into the exposed column of throat. Stefan groaned, his nails racking across Alaric's back, the gouges quickly healing and leaving behind streaks of blood on the pale flesh. He arched up with a wordless cry as he orgasm rolled through him, spraying his warm semen onto Alaric's belly.

Alaric released his throat, settling over the spent teen with a sound that could only have been likened to a purr as he attended to the weeping feeding mark with his tongue until it clotted. He rose his head and kissed along Stefan's jaw before he captured Stefan mouth in a leisurely kiss.

"Mm." Stefan sighed as he licked remnants of his own blood from his lips. His fingers trailed down Alaric's back and squeezed the globe of his buttock appreciatively. "Come on, I want you in me."

Alaric nuzzled his chin for a moment before he pushed off the teen. He half-heartedly cleaned off Stefan's still-warm ejaculate from his belly with tissue from the nightstand. He found an almost finished tube of lube in the drawer as Stefan rolled onto his stomach, pulling pillow under his chest and raising his hips in the air. Alaric's palm brushed over the curve of his rear, pressed a kiss to the dimple in his right cheek, before he rubbed a lubed finger over Stefan's pucker.

"Ah," Stefan exhaled as he was breached, his hips flexing back as Alaric started to pump. Stefan's panting was interspersed with small grunts as his prostate was stroked and a second finger was added; he grew hard again under the stimulation. "No," he gasped when he felt Alaric start to add a third finger, "Just two."

"What?" Alaric paused and pulled out his fingers. "No, Stef--"

Stefan sat up and turned around. "Yes." He took the lube and squirted it onto his fingers as the vampire watched. "You're not going to hurt me." Alaric gave a short thrust into his hand as Stefan coated his erection in lube. "I want to feel you, Ric. Slow," his free hand caressed down Alaric's chest. "We have time, there's no hurry." He leaned up and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before he laid back on his back, wiping his hand clean on the edge of the bed, the pillow elevating his hips. Alaric knelt there long enough worrying his bottom lip that Stefan hooked a heel around the back of his thigh and nudged him forward. "I'm not going to bite you," he teased.

Alaric huffed, pulled out of his trance. "Funny." His gaze automatically flickered down to Stefan's neck and the fresh bite mark there. The primal vampire part of him felt a superiority and sense of self-satisfaction on the sight of his fangs marking Stefan's otherwise unblemished golden skin; the other part of him (the _human_ part) always felt a sense of depravity at inflicting such an ugly mark of the person he loved—even though Stefan enjoyed it both sexually and emotionally when Alaric fed from him.

Alaric gave himself an internal shake and brushed his hands up Stefan's thigh, shifting forward more comfortably between his open legs. He leaned forward, mouthing up Stefan's stomach, before briefly licking the teen's nipple making his breath hitch. He pressed a tender kiss below his feeding mark before he captured Stefan's lips. He braced his weight on his forearm and guided his cock to Stefan's muscled ring, inhaling the brunette's gasp as he breached. Stefan's gripped his shoulders, green eyes locked to blue.

Alaric slowly pushed into his exquisitely tight entrance, his breath strained as he carefully watched Stefan's expression much like he had the second round of their first time together. There was that customary flare that quickly settled as Stefan's body adjusted to the familiar intrusion. Alaric stilled once he was fully sheathed, trying to cool down the instant urge to thrust without wait or reserve; maybe when they were both vampires, but definitely not now when he could lose control of himself too easily and work himself into a blood and lust frenzy.

One hand stroked Alaric's flank as he settled over the teen, the other massaged his nape; Stefan shifted his legs, wrapping them around Alaric's hips and the dirty-blond rocked into him, eliciting twin exhales that collided.

"I love you," the words left him in a strained groan, slightly cracked from his constricted throat; and though his eyes were darkened with lust and hunger, they stared deep and steady into the depths of Stefan’s own, branding the words into his magic-hungry soul.

" _Ric,"_ it was breathless, like a prayer. The head of the vampire's cock was like a whisper against the bundle of nerves, sending ghosting jolts of electricity enjoyably through him, tightening every individual muscle in a culmination of his intensifying pleasure.

Alaric could feel it all flush against him; every hitched breath, pounding heartbeat, shudder and twitch, the flush of Stefan's aroused blood and skin—absorbing it unto himself, painting himself like it was liquid latex, a coating of _life_. This one of the moments since he became a vampire where he felt _alive_ again, _living_ , and not some cold-blooded, polythene-skinned creature.

He was like a dam, there was too much pressure, he needed to burst, wanted to break; Stefan nearly sobbed with it. "Ok, go go go." And it was like the chain snapping, releasing the rabid dog. Alaric's hips snapped forward with enough force to lift Stefan's hips off the bed; the brunette's back arched and he cried out with the vicious stroke to his prostate. "Unh!" he had to reach overhead and brace himself against the headboard to prevent himself from being drove into it; it thumping rhythmically and frantically against the wall. Stefan's own bed had a box frame that was reinforced so there wasn't the same problem, but there was something especially explicit about a loose headboard against the wall in compliance against sex.

But Stefan soon lost awareness of it, the rhythmic thumping like a background beat, made harmony with the thump of his heart and the snap of Ric's hip. Their skin was both slick with perspiration, Stefan reaching his climax already, his cock stimulated to completion between their bodies. Alaric continued relentlessly, driving the brunette into a thick cloud of euphoria; until finally, with a gruff grunt of his boyfriend's name, the vampire came. Alaric's cum was like a cool balm coating his over-stimulated prostate; a glass of fresh iced lemonade on a sweltering day.

Alaric finally rose his face from the crook of Stefan's neck, the excited thrum of his artery enticing the veins under his eyes. He gazed down at the teen, who was totally blissed and in another plain; they'd had sex more in the past 5 days than they had in the length of their relationship. Other than that first night, Stefan had only taken Alaric's blood since and his demeanour had changed exponentially the proceeding days. He was lighter, more carefree than Alaric had ever known him; like he couldn't sense the dark cloud that loomed just out of sight over the horizon that the vampire did, who couldn't stop stewing in the back of his mind about Stefan's possible lack of ability to become a vampire. But for all of that, there had been a lack of further incident which included a sneak-feed-attack like dawn proceeding Christmas. Stefan didn't beg for blood, he happily drank what he was given and continued to insist on drinking it from a glass and not the vein. Alaric supposed a human drinking vampire blood was considerably different from a vampire drinking human blood, seeing as there was a distinct difference from vampire blood to human blood; the temperature at the forefront of Alaric's mind.

Alaric pressed a kiss to the brunette's jaw and received a little sound from the back of his throat in response. Stefan did shift instinctively though as Alaric carefully pulled out, who, now back with all his conscious facilities was aware he might have been particularly rough, especially with only having prepared Stefan with just 2 fingers. He carefully lowered Stefan's legs from around him, massaging thighs; Alaric pressed a kiss to his knee before he backed off the bed with a trip to the bathroom.

Stefan roused enough to hum in contentment at the feel of a warm cloth cleaning away the sweat and stickiness, then simply conformed pleasantly to the body that laid next to him in the dark, cocooned under the covers and lulled into full oblivion with the scent of their sex musk on the blanket and in the bedroom.

...

Stefan stretched to wakefulness with a groan, rolling onto his stomach and rubbing the radiating ache in his lower back. He gently flexed his rectum, sighing with a satisfied little smile into the pillow as he felt the tender soreness of the previous night.

Stefan felt his presence even before the side of the bed dipped under his weight.

"What are you smirking about?" Alaric's thumb brushed to curved corner of his mouth and Stefan finally cracked his eyes into the dimmed light of morning through the window blinds. His gaze slowly crawled up the disappointedly dressed figure to his face.

"You. Last night. Still being able to _feel_ you the morning after." That was something Stefan could appreciate about being human that he never got to with a vampire's healing ability; to be able to have the physical lingering of great sex, especially since he was almost practically celibate in his time as a vampire. "Why are you dressed?" he wondered finally as Alaric stroked his mussed hair.

Alaric sighed. "I have to go to school for a bit; classes start back up tomorrow and I have lesson plans to come up with."

Stefan sat up, the blanket falling down into his lap. He shifted onto his knees, the blanket sliding completely free giving a very pleasing view of all below before Stefan wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling the vampire closer. "Can't you go in later?" Stefan sighed.

Alaric caught sight of the feeding bite on the left side of Stefan's neck; left to linger through the night, it looked red, sore, and was shadowed with a purpled bruise. "Aren't you sore?" he gently caressed Stefan's buttock.

"A little, but it's a good sore." Stefan nipped his bottom lip with hooded eyes. "It's like a ghost of your cock is still inside of me." He gave a little gasp at the thought, a puff of air against the vampire's face.

Alaric swallowed. "You've been particularly horny lately," he murmured in note, his lips brushing over Stefan's.

"You've actually been touching me again lately," he returned with a flick of the tongue. "I'm taking advantage before some predictable unforeseen doppelganger curse mojo deems it appropriate to shred my happiness apart."

"Stefan," he said softly, the arousal Stefan had managed to kindle flickering out with other concerns.

Stefan stopped him with a slight shake of the head. "Don't go there," his blunted fingernail scraped sensually against Alaric's scalp in bid for distraction, making the vampire shiver. The brunette knew in was only a matter of time before the corrosive thought of his possible inability to become a vampire ate through the vault walls he'd locked into in. He was acting on some of the goals on his New Year's resolutions list he'd concocted for himself, some of which included: less brooding on the things he could do nothing to change at the present time and in his present condition, accepting his human condition (which he had made great leaps in even before the new year), and his bloodlust. "You can't know how much I've missed this—to have someone simply just touch me, to want to touch me. To have somebody."

Alaric stroked his cheek. "If I could just keep you in bed, naked, for the rest of eternity... I would."

"And yet, the word between the lines is 'no'," he said wryly. "You can't even stay for a _sliver_ of that eternity?" he pouted.

"It's already noon," Alaric pointed out with a chuckle.

Stefan shouldn't have been all the surprised by that piece of information and he wasn't. He tended to fall asleep easier and deeper now that he was human again, when something or other had a tendency to haunt his REM sleep with a strobe of his past atrocities when he'd been a vampire. Other than some nightmares born of his emotional stress, like forcing Damon and Alaric to pull away and deteriorating or even his hunger waking him in the middle of the night; he had a record of sleeping through the night and had actual need of his alarm clock, having been a rather sensitive and alert sleeper with his acute vampire senses with the inclination to wake up with the dawn. Of course, exhausting himself with great sex and falling asleep with the man he loved were just bonuses that paved the way.

"That's why they call it a nooner," Stefan pointed out with reason.

Alaric snorted, making Stefan smile. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Fine." Stefan sighed and withdrew his arms in acquiescence. He fell back across the bed, his hands clasped behind his head, one knee bent, the other falling open, leaving him in a libidinous pose. "You just have to suffer through your work knowing that I'm here in your bed, _naked,_ " his fingers trailed sensually down his chest, his breath slightly hitching as he touched his nipple, "And touching myself."

"Cock-tease," Alaric gazed at him hungrily.

"Hey, I'm all cock over here." He held up his hands defensively. "This is a free invitation; you're the one playing hard to get."

Alaric pursed his lips; he was already half-hard just seeing that smirk on the brunette's lips when he'd come in. "Weren't you raised in an era of modesty?"

"Of course. An gentleman in the public eye," he said up and pulled the corner of the sheet over his lap even as he gave a wicked smile, all baby-fang, "But once the braces come off—absolutely sinful in the bedchamber!"

"As I've had the pleasure to experienced firsthand," his voice was husky. Alaric gave his head a little shake to Stefan's amusement. "There isn't much food here, least of all edible of what actually is, so I went to the Coffee House, brought you back something."

Stefan blinked at him slightly in surprise. "You went out and I didn't even wake up?"

He remembered spending the weekend over at the Gilbert home with Elena and Bonnie after having opened the tomb, discovering the lack of Katherine's presence and the decision after a bloody lesson that it was best to give his brother some space, and having been roused from sleep peacefully, even in stages, at their murmured voices and movements around him. He knew his body's exhaustion at suffering such a tremendous wound to be healed on butcher's blood had taken part in it; but it was also that he _trusted_ Bonnie and Elena around him in such a vulnerable state and that if something did happen, they would watch over him to the best of their abilities until he was in a position to do so. He had subconsciously registered that it was them and deemed it safe for himself to leave himself exposed. He also trusted Alaric like that, but also of Alaric's leaving; that the instinct to start awake at any change in his environment was sated with the subconscious knowing that Alaric would return.

Alaric chuckled. "You were in an orgasm coma—you're welcome." He winked, pleased with himself.

"Mm," Stefan bit his lip in remembrance. "I'm definitely reaping all the benefits in this relationship."

"Don't sell yourself short," Alaric told him. "I've got hot coffee and fresh blood for your consuming pleasure," he gestured to the nightstand where a large takeout cup stood next to a drinking glass filled with crimson. "And freshly baked bagels in the kitchen. I'll bring something back for supper before I drive you back to the Boarding House."

Stefan leaned forward and took the takeout cup (which was just as much needed as the magical blood in his opinion), and popped off the plastic lid as he sat back and inhaled the heady steam of the dark roast coffee bean before taking his first sip with a pleased sigh. "Thank you."

"Well, you feed me, the least I could do was feed you back." Alaric cupped the back of his head and carefully pressed a smooch to his forehead after he stood. "Back to our regularly scheduled program."

"Let this season be better than the last," Stefan murmured in agreement as he watched Alaric's back disappear from the bedroom and heard the apartment door lock a couple minutes later. It did appear that he had been right and The Stefan Suffering Show had come to an end and this HBO spin-off was in effect. He leaned back against the headboard to finish his coffee, soaking in his post coital aches before he switched it out from the blood and they vanished.

He set the blood-stained glass back onto nightstand with the empty takeout cup and threw his legs over the side of the bed. His fingertips brushing the newly healed side of his neck as he stood. He scoured the floor looking for his jeans, but found them over the back of the computer chair at the desk instead along with his shirts that he'd stripped out in the front hall. He didn't bother to put them on and instead just dug into his pockets for his cell phone. He stacked the cups and sent a text to Damon politely requesting that his brother feed Salvatore if he was home, and set the cups of the breakfast bar next to the bag of bagels on his way to the bathroom. He set his phone on the back of the sink, answered nature and stepped into the tub for a shower, pulling the curtain closed.

With a towel wrapped around his waist and smelling of Alaric, Stefan wiped away the steam from the mirror above the sink and simply combed his hair. He went straight to the kitchen and set his cell on the corner of the bar, still with no reply and opened the paper bag. Selecting 2 poppy seed bagels he cut them open and put then into the toaster and filled the electric kettle with fresh water to boil with a cup of instant coffee that he'd found after a quick search of the cupboards and drawers which also garnered him a plate and knife. In the fridge he found a container of margarine and a small stack of travel-sized cream cheese packets with a sticky not that said 'edible!'. He took them in amusement and soon was perched on a breakfast stool in his towel eating bagels and dinking coffee.

When he was finished he went back to the bedroom and redressed in his closed from the night before, but not before cutting that damned ribbon off his belt with a vicious feeling. And alone, not sure what to do with himself, he may have started to clean up a bit; the kitchen, sweeping, dusting, but he put all the books and paper where he found them. If someone decided to have a hand in his room, he'd be angry if they started to 'organize' his clutter; it may have been clutter with old, perceivably junk, he knew where things were, like on his shelf by the door. His journals were dated on the spine by the were all crammed onto the shelf in no sort of conceivable order, and yet, you said a date and he could point it out directly blindfolded.

Finished, Stefan flopped heavily on the couch, only to shift uncomfortably as something hard dug into his back. He shifted and pulled what turned out to be an old hardcover with a German title, multicoloured sticky notes curled around the outside of the pages. With a shrug, he sat back, put his feet up on the coffee table and cracked it open; the sticky notes covered in Alaric's rushed scrawl and sentences of text and words underlined and circled, pages earmarked.

Stefan's German was definitely rusty, but where he lacked, Alaric's sticky notes put things into clearer picture. His brow quirked and he scoffed as he came across the word _lycanthropy_ and a depiction of a wolf man. He remembered a vague mention of them when they'd been looking for information on doppelgangers. Werewolves in laymen term, how ridiculous. He'd been a vampire for the past 145 years and granted, he didn't get out into the supernatural world like Damon had, but surely, if such a creature existed they would have either come across it or heard whispers of its existence. But the concept was interesting anyway and he turned the page, ready to read on when there was knocking at the door. He bolted upright to his feet, his heart hammering, the book clutched to his chest as he stared at the apartment door.

Definitely wasn't Ric; he would have just used the key to get back in. That meant it was someone looking for Alaric, who wasn't home, only he was and it would not be a good thing if anyone found out his student was hanging out in his apartment; definitely categorized as suspicious activity. So Stefan stayed still, resisted the urged to hold his breath which suddenly sounded overly loud and waited for whoever it was to leave—only they didn't go away, but knocked again, a slow, continuous, ominous rap.

He got all his answers when a voice called through the wood; his sudden anxiety decreasing, but his confusion and annoyance mounted: "Open up or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow this door down, little piggy." Damon sing-songed and Stefan's eyes widened at the coincidence of the thing, before shaking his head. "It's Damon, if you already didn't know. I can hear your precious little heart pounding away out here, Stefan. Better let me in before the neighbours get curious."

That definitely kicked the brunette into action, putting the book down onto the coffee table and quickly went to the door. He turned the dead bolt and opened the door to grab Damon's arm and quickly pull him into the apartment, who just looked amused at his reaction as he quickly shut and locked the door again.

Damon looked around as he casually walked in. "Huh. Seems about right." He stated drolly. "Cleaner than I expected." Stefan said nothing and Damon turned to him, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Don't you just make the sweetest, stay at home wifey—taking care of all the hubby's carnal needs, seeing him off to work, cleaning to wile away the time until his return, dinner waiting on the table..."

"'Not being a dick' still not on your resolutions list?" Stefan remarked dryly.

"What can I say, it's all part of the charm."

"If anyone could make 'dick' charming, it would be you." Stefan said in rejoinder and added at Damon's chuckle: "As a behavioural tendency, not the physical representation—do grow up." Damon just continued on his meander around the apartment, shifting papers, flicking blindly through books. "What are you doing here?" Stefan hissed in a hushed tone, getting back on topic, his arms cross over his chest. "I asked you if you could feed Salvatore, not pick me up."

"Maybe I had to make sure that Ricky-boy remembered to feed _you_." Damon turned to him.

"Firstly, I'm not a pet." He said tersely. "Second—what are you doing here?"

"Maybe I was already in town and saving myself the trip." Was Damon's reply as he pointedly pulled out a chair from the breakfast table and sat in it sideways. "Maybe my hot date from last night had to go into work this morning and needed a ride."

Stefan raised a curious brow despite himself, even if it was accompanied with an eye roll. "You came here to brag--"

Damon held up a finger, silencing him and continued: "...Seeing as I was between her legs one way or another all night— _that_ is a brag, brother."

Stefan gave his head a little shake and went to the coffee machine, refilling his own cup and filling another. "You made love--"

"Hot monkey sex," he corrected.

"Call it what you must," Stefan set the second cup on the table in front of the vampire as he pulled out the only other chair opposite the square table. "But you know what?" Stefan declared, causing Damon to assume a wary air as he sipped the black coffee, "There had to have been some feeling other than lust if she left alive and you dropped her off at work like a gentleman."

"Don't ruin this for me."

"Alright, I'll concede." Stefan hid his smirk behind his cup. "I'll just say this then and we can both just let sleeping dogs lie on the details of each others sex lives..." Stefan offered and waited in unperturbed silence as his brother considered him for a moment before a flicker of his eyes indicated his acceptance for Stefan to proceed. "When do I get to meet your girlfriend?" he had the cheekiest grin ever. Somehow, he managed to deflect the pointy pen flung at him in the short distance without spilling his coffee and all the while chortling at his brother’s furious expression. "Oh, come on," Stefan managed to say between the gasps when Damon looked about to either smash the coffee cup across his face or simply throw the hot liquid (had he still be a vampire, it most assuredly would have been the former. As it was, he still didn't particularly prefer the former). "You've been on me about Ric since day 1."

"That's the privilege of being the big brother, baby brother." Damon took a haughty drink of coffee. "We get to tease mercilessly, but it's harmless because it's out of love."

"So every time you tease me, what you're really saying is 'I love you, little brother'."

Damon rolled his eyes over the rim of his cup. "You're incorrigible, always _hungry_ for one thing or anything."

Stefan gave him an innocent and bright smile, chin propped in his hand. "It's a little brother's duty to annoy my big brother without pity. Love is not without its frustration, after all." A lesson he knew keenly firsthand. "So, does this mean you're staying for dinner?" Damon only response was a silent sip of his coffee.

New Year's had definitely been a calmer event than Christmas but still didn't lack for its own drama which Stefan knew he was going to feel the affects of soon enough.

**~ T V D ~**

"Hey, Jenna's picking me and Jeremy up after school. Do you want to come over for dinner?" Elena asked as they walked to last period together. "Damon dropped you off, right?"

"Is Jenna cooking?" he questioned warily, definitely the first thing on his mind. In this condition, the woman's cooking actually could kill him. And he wouldn't have 2 vampire handy if something did happen like with the nutmeg; he'd already gone to the clinic at the hospital and got an allergy test done and he was indeed allergic to nutmeg and they gave him a prescription for epinephrine, and the first day back after the Holidays he gave the office a note from his doctor. He had to think like a human now.

Elena gave a small chuckle. "No. It's pizza night. It's been a while since you've been over, not since... you know."

They shared a grimace. Not since Elena had walked in on him and Alaric and she told him to get out when he tried to talk to her about it only for them to uncomfortably run into John and Jenna at the door, but there was a brief stagnant silence between them for something else altogether more awkward and recent than even that—the accidental kiss on New Year's at the countdown. The affect of which Stefan had been subconsciously anticipating and dreading. There had been an askew air between them the past week since. It was like this weird, silent thing hanging between them that neither was willing to draw attention to it first. Bonnie had seen it happen and had been since rolling her eyes at them with her own growing irritation on their childishly growing behaviour; both Stefan and Elena made a silent vow that Damon never find out because he'd never let them live it down; and Stefan had already braved the cliff edge hidden in the fog by telling Ric of the incident in the car on their way to his apartment from the park that same night; although to teen had a difficult time discerning his expression through the face paint and dark despite the vampire's casual observation of : "It sounds just like a scene out of some rom-com."

"Anyway." Elena cleared her throat, determined to continue passed it. "She likes you and keeps throwing suggestion around that you might be dead or something because your hospital visit and you've stopped coming around... so?" she raised her brow as they paused outside the classroom.

"Sure." Stefan agreed. _'Getting back into the regularly scheduled program_ ,' that was what Alaric had said and he was right, perhaps he could take this opportunity to clear the air between him and Elena. "I'll just text Damon that he can shirk his brotherly duty of picking me up—for now at least."

...

Stefan was just finishing packing his leather messenger bag at his locker after the final bell when Elena joined him. They found Jenna and Jeremy waiting in the parking lot... by Elena's Ford Escape.

"You finally got your car back!" Stefan said in surprise. "It took them long enough to fix it."

"Just in time, too." Jeremy agreed as the 2 young men got into the backseat. "I don't think the 2 of us would have been able to fit in Jenna's clown car, let alone the 4 of us."

"Hey!" Jenna protested good naturedly, twisting around in the passenger seat to face them. "The whole point of a clown car is to fit multiple persons and objects into its small confines... so there." She sat back with satisfaction, point made. "Point for the clown car."

"Adults aren't supposed to say 'so there', Aunt Jenna." Jeremy returned. "It diminishes the maturity of the closing opinion."

"So is being a smart ass," she pointed out.

Elena chuckled as she pulled from the school lot and merged into traffic. Stefan listened in quiet amusement; you couldn't get any more normal.

...

"Dinner will be in an hour or so," Jenna informed the trio as she unlocked the front door and let them all in.

Stefan left his bag with his jacket downstairs by the door, but Elena took hers with them up to her bedroom, making sure to close her bedroom door and the door to her shared bathroom with Jeremy. But when she looked about to sit on the cushioned stool at her vanity table, he took her hand and gently pulled her to sit on the bed next to him.

He took a deep breath and gazed at her determinedly. "Are we okay?"

"What?" she asked in surprise. "Of course! Everything is fine."

But Stefan gave his head a little shake in denial. "It's not. Not since the park."

"Oh," she winced. "Stefan--"

"I love you, Elena. Your friendship is too precious to me to just sit silently by while the awkwardness of an accidental kiss tatters it. I can't go through that devastation for a second time, the first was more than enough. Please tell me we can fix this between us and return to normal?"

She gave a slightly shaky exhale and swallowed the lump of emotion lodged at the base of her throat. If he'd been a vampire he would have heard her heart sky rocket at the first sentence, plummet by the second, and skitter to a somewhat lopsided keel by the last. Of course, she didn't tell him how his words, especially those first few affected her; nor would she ever tell him, not even her diary, of the Katherine calibre of conniving and selfishness that went through her that first instant when Bonnie had called on the way back to the Boarding House from the quarry to tell her Stefan was alive—alive and _human_.

"I know I hurt you--" he started.

She shook her head. "I was just jealous—still get jealous sometimes, I suppose." She admitted. "But just watching you two, the way you look at each other, touch each other—anyone would be envious." Elena took hold of his hand and held it; it was _warm_ in hers and she never wanted to let it go but that wasn't her right anymore. "I thought we were going to be an epic love story, but that distinction clearly belongs to you and Alaric." She gave a self-deprecating laugh. "And that kiss, despite accidental and with meaning to be nothing more than platonic... it still stirred up those not quite buried feelings. But of course we're still friend, nothing will ever change that, Stefan."

Stefan interlaced their fingers, squeezing gently back with relief. "Even before we kissed that night at the party on the foot bridge, I always thought there was friendship between us. Always a connection. That night at Wickery Bridge," he said quietly and she swallowed, "When I pulled you out of the water... and you opened your eyes... it was like some invisible tie knotted in the ether between us. And even now when I think about it, I don't belief it was some mythical force between doppelgangers because I felt nothing like that when I met Katherine for the first time. And it breaks me, the thought of losing you one way or another."

Elena blinked back her tears and pulled her hand free of his, only to pull him into a hug, her face pressed into his throat. "You saved me," she whispered into his skin. "More than once. I can't see my life without you in it; somewhere, sometime. And I can't abide the thought of never being in your wonderful life, Stefan Salvatore, because I love you, too." She pressed her eyes closed, inhaling deeply and squeezing tighter.

Stefan held her; one arm around her waist, the other his hand squeezing her crook comfortingly, his thumb stroking her nape under her long hair. "Thank you for keeping me in your life," he pressed a kiss to her hair.

There was a knock; the sound almost like the bang of a gunshot through the serenity. The bedroom door opened a moment later. They almost jerked apart like they were caught doing something they shouldn't be and both looked over to see Jeremy standing in the doorway, hand on the knob, and regarding them with slightly narrowed brown eyes. Stefan smoothed a hand casually down his chest, his expression outwardly unaffected even as his heart thumped under his hand, the scent of Elena's fruity shampoo lingering in his nose. He never used to get surprised like that, barely did even now even when Damon had the delightful tendency to pop up; no, it was the Gilberts, they just seemed to ghost through all his defense and instinct.

"What was the point of knocking if you were going to just barge in anyway?" Elena challenged, her arms folded across her chest, a shapely brow in play.

Jeremy gave a little brother smile. "What were you doing in here that you needed to have the door closed?"

"None of your business," she returned coolly.

Jeremy simply said, "Aunt Jenna says dinner in 10, wash-up before coming down." He looked between the pair a last time and shut the door as he left.

They stared at the door for an extended minute in the silence before eerily deciding to turn and look at each other in the same moment. Twin grins twitched their lips and they shared amused chuckles, the air riftless between them.

"Do you think we gave him the impression we were making out?" Stefan mused.

"I guess it's a good thing then that he didn't see us at the countdown otherwise he'd really have something to think about." She elbowed his ribs mockingly. "Come on," she patted him on the thigh and hopped to her feet, taking his hand in return and pulling him up. "Family Dinner; impress them and you impress me."

"Oh, so it comes and goes?" he teased, letting himself be pulled along.

...

Jenna paid for the pizza and Elena served the salad her aunt had made into 4 small bowls, sending a wink to Stefan, "Technically it's not 'cooked'." Stefan just shook his head and accepted the salad.

With their dinner, they all settled into family room and watched a rented movie. Halfway through, plates empty, they braked and returned with ice cream; it was chocolate fudge with brownie chunks. Just the name of it made Stefan's teeth ache from the sweetness. Elena, aware of his preference, simply added an extra scoop to her own bowl and grabbed an extra spoon. Elena cuddled comfortably against his side on the couch, his arm draped across her narrow shoulders with her knees drawn up, slightly angled towards him, the bowl balanced on her knees. She ate most of it, not that Stefan minded, with him intermittently spooning out the brownie bits to her amusement.

It was nice to have him to herself after all the insanity of the last couple months; she rested her head back against his shoulder with a soft sigh. She'd dated Matt since their first year of high school, having known each other since pre-school. They didn't start sleeping with each other, both virgins, until the previous year of high school; and then her parents had died and nothing in her life, the future she had seen before her felt right anymore. Like a shattered mirror reassembled but nothing _fit_. And she'd broken it off. And then she'd met Stefan. Her first meeting of him was not his of her. He'd told her about Wickery Bridge, but it was his memory, not hers. Hers had been running straight into his fine chest from the boy's bathroom after scolding Jeremy for doing drugs, and looking up into his forest green eyes it was like everything snapped back into place, without distortion or cracks, the mirror a whole smooth surface, her future reflected back at her. Nothing was planned, nothing was clear in the distance but for Stefan Salvatore; one way or another he was there and it made her feel happy and hopeful and safe—all the things she'd failed to feel in the numbness of her chest since her parents' deaths—something he had reawakened inside of her.

Stefan took the empty glass bowl from her knee and placed it on the end table next him by the lamp, and Elena shifted slightly but moved no further than that. She found herself watching him more than the movie with half-lidded eyes, his profile visible in the dimness of the family room from the flashing images on the television screen. She could feel him breathe under her, the rise and fall of his chest, the brush of his lashes against his cheek when he blinked, the minute twitches at the corner of his mouth when he found something mildly amusing happening on screen, a huff of laughter, a quiet chuckle. He was so warm and relaxed, there were no shadows of worry haunting his eyes, foreshadowing his true age of 162; he was happy, sated, free and she soon found herself turned into him completely. Her face slightly turned into his shoulder, her nose against the light blue pattern of his button up, able to smell his deodorant and pleasant spice of his cologne with every breath. Almost on its own accord her hand reached over and rested on his chest over his heart, her fingers holding loosely to the edge of the pocket on his left breast. He looked down at her questioningly, but she just gave him a soft smile; he returned it, the knuckles from his hand of the arm around her shoulder lightly brushed down the side of her neck and he pressed a kiss to her forehead before turning back to the movie.

She could be like this, here, forever with him, just like this and knew she would be content, even if there was no romance there was love still and she didn't want to lose that. She was finding it a lot more difficult to get over Stefan despite how briefly they had been in each other's lives, how shortly they had been intimate and she certainly wasn't helping herself with it too much at the moment, not when everything was finally calm and relatively normal but for the few obvious things.

Elena blinked rapidly as Jenna turned on the lamp, casting the room in light, her eyes adjusting to the brightness, the movie over.

"Didn't think I was that fascinating anymore," Stefan mused to her quietly with humour so the others wouldn't hear, "Just being a... relatively normal human now."

"You're warm," Elena murmured into his shoulder. "And you're here—and I'm happy."

Stefan breathed deeply as he gazed at her. "So am I."

Elena smiled at him and turned away to straighten her legs back over the side of the couch.

"So, what did you think of the ending, Elena?" Jenna teased her niece knowingly, her amused gaze flickering to Stefan as she stood.

"Fitting, I have no doubt." She replied with a laugh.

"Mm-hm." Jenna took her and Jeremy's bowl to the kitchen. Jeremy shook his head, his back to them as he replaced the DVD into the case.

Stefan reclaimed his arm and stood, stretching them overhead before he picked up their bowl from the end table and turned to Elena, holding his free hand to her. Elena tucked her hair behind her right ear and took it letting him pull her nimbly to her feet. They went to the kitchen, Jenna packing away the meagre leftovers of meat lovers pizza and salad to put in the fridge, and the pair wordlessly started to do the dishes; Stefan washing and Elena drying with her better knowledge of the dish placements in the cupboards.

"You didn't have to do the dishes, Stefan." Jenna protested.

"It's alright, I don't mind." Stefan told her. "It's the least I can do and I do most of the housework at home anyway,"

"Well, then, you can come over for dinner any time!" she chuckled.

"Instead of ordering in, we should make Stefan cook sometime," Elena said, "He's something of a Chef."

A mischievous glint sparked in his green eyes as he looked slyly over at her. "You really should take Home Ec., Elena, before we graduate." Stefan said drily. "I think you could really benefit."

"Hey!" she protest, but couldn't help the chuckle as she swatted at him with the tea towel. "Why would I need to go through all that when I can just have you cook for me?"

Jenna just shook her head at them in amusement and left them to it. They continued in tenuous silence, broken with exchanged teasing, laughs, and faces until Stefan finally drained the sink and snatched the damp tea towel from Elena's hands to dry his wet and soapy ones.

"You know, I think this is the normalest thing I've done in the past 145 years." Stefan realized. "Dinner at my friend's house. No immanent threat, no vampires, no blood (human or otherwise), or no..." he paused and looked at her in mild amusement and she raised her brow curiously in response. "Secret relationships." He teased with a wink and she snorted in laughter.

"I knew it!" Jeremy blurted and both doppelgangers spun in surprise and shared a quick worried look—had he heard the talk of vampires?—but their worry was _mostly_ assuaged with the following sentence: "You two are back together, aren't you?"

"No, Jer," Elena said with some relief, "We're--"

Jeremy shoot his head. "I saw you kiss on New Year's. Then there was whatever I almost caught you doing in your room, and whatever was happening on the couch during the movie. That was not 'just-friends', you don't do that with Matt."

"Really, Jeremy," Stefan tried, but the younger teen was not convinced.

"I just don't know why you would try and keep it secret. Unless..." he stared at them for a moment and the pair exchanged worried looks. "Aunt Jenna," Jeremy suddenly called causing both to start a little. "Elena and Stefan are secretly engaged!"

"Jeremy!" Elena exclaimed, swatting at him. "We're not engaged."

"What?" he fended her off. "What else am I supposed to think with you 2 acting so sketchy? Unless you're pregnant!" he exclaimed. It was like the oxygen was vacuumed from the kitchen and both brunettes were motionless like they had been petrified into stone.

"What?!" Jenna cried out from the kitchen doorway. "Elena! Tell me you're not pregnant." She looked between them, desperate in the face of their mirrored silence and immobility; there was a rose tinge to Elena's olive-skin, her lips pursed tightly. "Elena?"

Elena was culpable; she had those traitorous thoughts, those hazardous 'what if?' stream of conscious in those self-pitying moments of loneliness. She had been ready and willing to become a vampire so she and Stefan could be together; it wasn't her most best or brightest moment and the very last thing Stefan had wanted. And not long after that, it was like the universe was shoving her most treasured dreamed future in her copied face; Stefan human and in love with a vampire. She was a terrible person as that evil little piece inside of her cursed her birth mother for seeking her undeath but obtaining her truth death instead and eventually bringing Alaric Saltzman to Mystic Falls and Stefan. She hated that spiteful side of her.

Somehow, Elena managed to start functioning again. "I'm not pregnant, Aunt Jenna." She exhaled.

Stefan was an altogether different story. _'I wish I could be human for you._ ' He'd said that to her that night in her bed and here he stood before her, exactly that, human. Living, breathing, aging—and capable once more of reproduction. He was everything he had wished he could give her then but for the one crucial fact that he didn't love her that way.

He hadn't thought on it with any depth considering that his future always held vampirism in the wings, but before that, before Katherine, when his father’s talk of red-eyed demons were just the ravings of a drunk... it had been all so clear to him, tangible that he could nearly touch it, smell it, breath it—live it.

But that future of wife, and of his children grabbing at his legs with their little chubby hands was frozen in his past when Giuseppe had shot and killed him that night with Damon in their misguided attempt to free Katherine who hadn't needed their interference to begin with. Even so, he used to dream of it, what it might have been like, he had the time and the regret after all. Playing hide-and-seek in the wood with his son; seated on the bench with his daughter at the piano. Sharing a tumbler of whiskey with his son; sharing a dance with his daughter at the Ball. His son following in his footsteps to become a doctor; his daughter marrying the man she loved and treated her well. Grandchildren to love, Damon the fun uncle. Happy and content to live in his little piece of human heaven. But those were just fantastical dreams; it was a future long discarded. Even now, human and capable, it was not a viable option—Alaric was his future, the only one he wanted.

"Stef?"

A hand on his arm brought him back to the awkward unfolding present and he swallowed convulsively, looking down at the girl. "Children aren't in my future," it wasn't said with a hopeless, helpless revelation, but an old acceptance.

There was a brokenness reflecting in her brown eyes, a sadness. "Stefan," her fingers tightened almost painfully on his arm.

"No one is pregnant," Stefan promised Jenna. "We really are just friends," he addressed Jeremy. The youth still didn't look like he believed him.

"Well, good." Jenna said, patting the back on the dinning chair she stood behind. "Because I am to young to be a-- a great aunt. I already have 2 children to take care of as it." She sent a slightly baleful look towards a barely sheepish Jeremy for calling 'wolf'. "And with that, I think it's about time we call it a night," she informed them.

"Thank you for having me, Jenna."

"Of course, Stefan. Any time. Do you need a ride?" Jenna asked. "Elena can drive you."

"No need. I texted Damon earlier to pick me up around 9," it was already half-past. "Thanks for the offer, though, and the food. It was... fun." He joked lightly.

"I'm glad," she smiled. "Haven't seen you around much,"

"I was still trying to catch my feet after being in the hospital but Christmas spit me back out right." i.e. he was human now and it was a hell of an adjustment to calibrate himself to after 145 years, but with hunger that was finally attainable he was as adjusted as his body could get at the moment. "And it's back to business as usual."

Jenna nodded, leaning against the back of the chair. "Speaking of that brother of yours..."

"That's my cue," Jeremy said; he quickly grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge (his original intention of coming into the kitchen in the first place) and headed up to his room.

"What did Damon do to you?" Elena lamented.

"Nothing, as far as I can tell." Jenna said. "I set him up."

"His date from New Year's?" Stefan questioned in surprise; Elena just looked surprised (and suspicious) of Damon and date in the same sentence.

Jenna nodded. "I've been trying to for months now," she admitted. "She's a friend of mine."

He nodded. "He did mention that."

"I thought it would be... healthy for him to be with people his own age instead of hanging out with teenagers." She gave a pointed glance at Elena. "I was actually surprised when he finally agreed after my friend Meredith told me of rumours she'd heard at the hospital that Damon and Alaric were... _involved_." She emphasized.

Elena choked. "Involved." She repeated, shooting a look at the former-vampire.

Stefan's mouth pursed, his lips not sure if they wanted to go into a annoyed frown or an amused grin. "Damon and Mr Saltzman are just friends; he comes over to the house all the time." He finally said. "They're... drinking buddies," he mused. "Damon has zero inclination towards men romantically."

"Okay. I just wanted to make sure I just didn't set my friend up for imminent failure on the romance front."

"You didn't," Stefan assured with a shake of the head. "He's just been preoccupied about me the past couple months, that's all. You have nothing to worry about." He squashed the inane feeling welling in his chest before it could form its true name.

Jenna sighed in relief. "Just wanted to fact check through a source of knowledge." She went around the table and to the counter to turn the electric water kettle on.

Stefan nodded as his cell pinged with a text in his pocket. When he pulled it out, Alaric's stubble-surrounded lips filled the screen. R: **I'm here.** A brief moment of panic squeezed his heart and he quelled it inwardly before it could show surface wise. "That's my ride," he quickly tucked his phone away and swallowed. Elena flickered a questioning brow at him; ' _Ric,'_ he mouthed.

"Oh," she shot a glance at Jenna’s turned back as she set up her tea, waiting for the kettle to boil. They quickly left the kitchen and Stefan rushed a little to slip on his boots, coat and grab his bag. Elena opened the door.

"Goodnight, Stefan." Jenna came from the kitchen and approached as Elena tried to usher him out the door. Elena was the only one that caught the slight falter in Stefan's step with the sight of the white Tahoe idling at the curb and Jenna standing alongside her. "Don't be a stranger." Stefan raised his hand in acknowledgement and practically jumped down the porch steps, jogging down the path. Jenna squinted towards the dark street over Elena's shoulder. "Hey, isn't that...?"

"Über!" Elena quickly shut the front door. "Damon must have been busy."

"Oh, alright." Jenna straightened and shot her a contemplative look before she headed back to the kitchen for her steeping tea.

Elena let out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the closed door; that would have been hard to explain—their history teacher picking up Stefan. Or maybe Jenna would just assume that because of Damon's friendship with Alaric, Stefan’s with the man would extend a little further than simply a teacher-student relationship. Either way, she was glad Jeremy's bedroom wasn't at the front of the house because he surely would have recognized the history teacher's car without issue.

...

"I thought Damon was picking me up," Stefan quickly clicked his seat belt on as Alaric put the car into drive, pulling into the street. "What if Jenna or Jeremy recognized your car?"

"He relegated; apparently he's 'busy' and I'm just your friendly neighbourhood, anonymous Über driver." Stefan glanced over at him, bemused. Alaric indicated his ear, "Elena's cover."

"Ah." They were out of the neighbourhood within 10 minutes and on the lonely highway towards the Boarding House.

"How was your night?" Alaric reached across the center console and took Stefan's hand.

"Elena and I cleared the air about the countdown and..." he trailed off, unsure if should even say anything. It wasn't like anything happened, but that just felt like a weak excuse not to say anything. He'd made a resolution about his 'secret keeping', it'd only been a week, it would be bad faith of his own personal contract.

"And?" Alaric prompted. "Did something happen?"

Stefan took a deep breath. "Jeremy saw us kiss in the park. He thought we'd gotten back together, but for whatever sketchy reason was trying to keep it secret. The 'sketchiness' being... Elena’s pregnancy."

"What?!" Alaric slammed on the brakes completely unprepared for that and Stefan grunted as he was jerked forcefully forward into his locked seat belt, knocking the wind out of him as the tires squealed against the asphalt. "Shit. Are you okay?" he quickly pulled off onto the shoulder of the highway; luckily, no one had been behind them.

Stefan rubbed his chest as he rested back against the seat; it felt like he'd been clothes-lined. "I'm fine." His bag had flown from his lap into the footwell.

"I was caught by surprise." Alaric swallowed. "Elena's pregnant?" his hands tightened on the steering wheel making it creak under the pressure.

"No." Stefan reached over and rubbed his hand over Alaric's whitened-knuckles on the wheel soothingly. "It was just Jeremy's absurd theory; there's nothing going on between us." Alaric's grip loosened marginally. "Elena and I are nothing more than close friends, nothing more, Ric. We've only ever kissed and groped heatedly." He whispered honestly, carefully watching Alaric's profile in the back-glow of the headlights.

With an exhale, Alaric hold loosened completely, the finger holds slightly warped and his hands fell into his lap. He turned his right one over and let Stefan card their fingers together. "Did you ever think about kids?" he asked the hard-pressed question on his mind, finally turning to face Stefan.

"I've thought about it for the past 145 years."

"Yes, but this year is different." Alaric challenged. "You were given a second chance at being human, a second chance to be a father."

"I know, but the answer is still no."

"Stefan," he shook his head helplessly. "You still have a chance--"

"If you finish that sentence with 'at a normal life'," Stefan interrupted in warning. "If a normal life doesn't have you in it, then I want nothing to do with it. Besides, I'm pretty sure I've reach my 'normal' retainer in life and I'm okay with that. This is the life I want—with you. For the first time in a long time I'm _happy_. I don't need anything else." He held the blue eyes in a steady gaze. "Did you want children?" Stefan asked quietly.

"Yes; but Isobel didn't." Alaric swallowed, easily able to see more than the shadowed figure of their clasped hands. "I loved her anyway. I thought there would be time, that she would change her mind but the entire time we were together she was searching for a life that didn't have me in it."

"I'm sorry you never got the chance before it was taken from you." He raised their clasped hands to press a kiss to the back of Alaric's.

But Alaric could hardly think about that any longer. "You _do_ , Stefan."

Stefan sighed heavily. "I hate myself for saying this but..." he huffed in self-deprecation. "I'm only 17 years old; the propriety of that age had altered severely since the 19th century. And so have I. I don't want a dog—I can't have a child in my life!" his voice rose briefly. "Even if my sperm is fertile, which I don't know if it is with all the horror and corruption my body has suffered through, what do you expect me to do with it? Go out there and find a surrogate?" he scoffed.

"I'm sure Elena would love to carry your child." Alaric said with a bitter expression of hostility that surprised them both into stillness.

"I've told you how I felt about Elena—before I was human and now that I am." Stefan told him stonily, reclaiming his hand. "It changes nothing. I told you about the kiss, I told you the truth; if you can't believe me, then I don't see that there's anything more to say." He pressed the release on the seat belt buckle and reached forward to grab his bag from the footwell.

"What are you doing?" Alaric panicked when he saw Stefan reach for the door release. His hand flashed with vamp-speed, an instinctual response; there was an electronic clicking throughout the car interior as the master door lock was triggered, but Stefan had already broken the seal and climbed from the car. "Stefan!" the vampire was entrapped in his own engaged seat belt, his hands frantic and clumsy on the release as Stefan's figure cut through the beam. When he was finally free, it was with a broken prong on the belt, but he was out, the driver door left open, the interior lit and blurred in front of Stefan. Stefan paused, hiked his back strap higher on his shoulder and had the resolute heart to step to the side and continue walking along the gravel shoulder. Alaric turned, watching helplessly as the distance slowly widened. "I don't know where that came from. No. I do." He admitted in shame. "It was petty jealousy and insecurity." He felt hope flare when Stefan stopped walking, even if he didn't turn back around. "I feel like I'm _stealing_ your life from you and am afraid that one day you're going to realize that and go live how you're really supposed to this turn."

Stefan finally turned and took a step forward, back toward him. "I am the one that stole your life from you." He countered. "You're the one that gave me my life back." He took a step forward. "I love you, Ric—do you believe me?"

"Yes."

He took another step. "Do you believe me when I tell you I don't wish to be with Elena in that way?" he took another, slowly closing the gap of separation.

There was a brief second of silence before Alaric said: "Yes," it wasn't because he didn't believe it, but because the thought was a painful one.

Stefan reached the vampire. "When Katherine took me and she was done playing nice, I was weak and couldn't fight her physically or mentally when she showed me your future—a future without me—and it was both beautiful to me as well as painful. Painful, because you weren't with me. Beautiful because you were free of vampires. You were married to Jenna; happy, with children and grandchildren. You were fulfilled and lived long and you died peaceful. You had all of that because _I_ wasn't there. It was everything I couldn't give you." He spoke tearfully. "Is it safe to assume that with our rolls reversed, you've thought the same but with Elena substituted in?"

Alaric gently cupped his face, thumbs gently caressing under Stefan's eyes and nodded. "I'd say you hit the target perfectly center." His voice was thick.

Stefan reached up and pushed his fingers into Alaric's jacket cuffs. They curled warmly around his wrists, his thumb stroking the inside skin. "But none of that is real and none of that matters because we love each other."

"You became human for me," a grin ghosted across Alaric's lips.

Stefan bit his bottom lip. "And you became a vampire for me."

"Always just a corner away from where we're really supposed to be." He surmised.

Stefan gave his head a little shake. "We have the journey. Isn't it always the journey that matters? That's where we live and we love and we hurt. Around that corner is just where we end up when all of _this_ ends."

"Mm." Alaric gazed at him for a moment before he leaned forward and pressed an encompassing kiss to Stefan's lips, an arm going round his back, his hand cupping the back of the brunette head. "Get in the car," Alaric told him. "I'm not taking the chance that highway shoulder's are suddenly your friend."

"Huh." Stefan fingers brushed along the teacher's jaw, feeling the prickle of stubble. "Maybe a pack of dogs would drag me off." He returned to the passenger side of the Tahoe but paused in the open door of the car. "It's a full moon," Stefan mused, his head titled back to observe the silver, fully illuminated sphere hung in the dark star-speckled sky above, "there are werewolves on the prowl." It was an intriguing thought. He had hunted in its enchanted light many a night himself. "Happy hunting." He climbed into the car and just chuckled when Alaric pointedly locked the doors.

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this baby-drama idea back in CHAPTER 15 when I had the idea to put all the 'Holiday' in 1 chapter (are you laughing too? because if I had stuck to that idiotic plan you only be reading what was in the past 4 chapters now), but anyway, it's in there now :)


	20. CHAPTER 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, reality has caught up to me and not in a very good way.

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Stefan stepped from the steady afternoon drizzle to the dry shelter of the covered kitchen doorway on the back piazza. He toed off his wet sneakers on the mat and peeled off his sodden socks, curling his cold toes. The sky had already been grey when he'd left but it wasn't until he was almost halfway through his run in the woods that it started to drizzle. The pine boughs acted as a buffer in the beginning but the mizzle had been steady and persistent and soon the pine needles were wet through and dripped a steady trickle down the back of his neck and the ground like a soaked sponge, fat with rainfall.

He stepped into the dim warmth of the kitchen, closing the door and leaving his shoes outside. He shrugged out of his wet windbreaker and tossed it onto a stool; the material of his grey tee was dark around the shoulders and down the back with wet. He'd ended up wet enough that he might as well have gone when it was simply pouring out. Stefan grabbed the tea towel and dried his face, rubbing it through his wet hair and over his nape, before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and rested back against the counter as he drank. He'd started running again in the new year; able to feel the burn of the exercise in his muscles, the sting of perspiration dripping into his eyes, the large expansion of his lungs, the steady thump in his chest—different from sex but the euphoria of adrenaline was similar. It was more satisfying now that he was human, able to feel the effects of his efforts that left him with a greater sense of accomplishment.

Stefan crushed the empty plastic bottle and chucked it in the bin before he grabbed his discarded windbreaker and left the kitchen. He hung it on a hook in the entrance hall and made his way upstairs to his room. He stripped from his wet running clothes and slipped on dry pair of flannel pants and a warm sweater and headed back downstairs after grabbing an old text he was reading, the pillow from his bed and his iPod. He settled in the library, lighting the fireplace and putting the screen in front of the flames, he put his headphones on and propped his head on the pillow in front of the fire on the floor. Not having bothered to put on socks, he propped his chilled feet up in front of the screen.

He'd only gotten 2 chapters in before the words started to blur and his eyes slipped closed, his fingers going lax with sleep; the book fell open on his chest, quiet music in his ears and bathed in a cloak of warmth from the crackling fire.

Stefan woke in much the same position he'd fallen asleep in, but with his headphones askew, the book fallen from his chest and the fire dying. Rain pattered against the windows. He sat up, a yawn stretching his mouth as he wiped the drool from his chin; angel wings and grey eyes floating in the back of his memory. He couldn't remember what he dreamed but for those 2 wispy images. It was nothing like when he dreamed of those lapis lazuli irises swallowing him whole and leaving his anxious, unfettered, and hungry; the grey eyes left him feeling similar to when he woke up and was able to look into Alaric's blue eyes.

He pulled his headphones down so they hung around his neck and climbed to his feet, he bent and retrieved the book and pillow from the floor. He left the book on the reading table but tucked his pillow under his arm, scrubbing a hand through his mussed hair as he looked at the clock on the shelf. It was already after 9; Stefan had taken to running evenings now as opposed to mornings. The vampire blood wasn't like drinking a can of Red Bull, it didn't pep him up with a burst of energy, it helped to regulate him at the standard level. He enjoyed sleeping now, without the nightmares, after actually having to expend his energy all day, his body craved the rest. In a bide for that extra rest, his body refused to waken before his alarm at 7 a.m. unless under extenuating circumstance despite it having been the norm to awake at dawn to go hunting for the past 74 years at the least.

Despite just having slept 2 hours and his usual bed time now not even 3 hours away, he knew he'd have no issue with sleeping; perhaps he'd dream of angel wings and grey eyes again but retain more than that upon waking. Maybe it was another lost memory of the past? Stefan left the fire to finish dying out; the Boarding House was quiet, dark, and empty—or it was supposed to be.

He froze in the darkened hall as the unintelligible whisper of murmurs reached him; _plural_ , he realized after a worrying moment. He recognized Damon's immediately, which settled him somewhat but the second, female, he determined, he did not; Stefan wasn't comfortable with the fact that he hadn't awoken when a stranger entered his home (even if he'd been asleep on the other side of the house and she was in the company of Damon, who he trusted); he was becoming desensitized in his human state, the alert vampire instinct that saved his life daily was disappeared against his own belief.

Inexplicably, frozen in the dark hall, he suddenly felt very vulnerable and exposed. What if it truly had been a stranger breaking into the Boarding House? Lots of what the house was furnished with was antique _but_ it was worth money. Would he awaken or would it be his life? (it was such a _human_ worry to have). _It's just an overreaction_ , he scolded himself and he _knew_ it was true yet he sucked in a sharp, almost panicked breath. He'd thought he'd gotten over this-- this _weakness_ , like the moment when he nearly did a header down the basement stairs and was over taken with the vulnerability of his new human body when he been of near immortal the past 145 years, it had been near earth shattering. But no, he swallowed the breath hard, this wasn't about _that_ ; this was just him trying to drown out an accepted insecurity for the bald one he'd been ignoring with fervour.

Stefan loved his brother; he wanted Damon to have a life, find love and be happy. Now that Stefan wasn't on the verge of something or other dangerous and deadly, Damon was free to live that life that he deserved. Stefan just didn't want to face what that truly meant; it was 'Saint Stefan' at war with 'Selfish Stefan'. It felt like he'd just gotten his Big Brother back and he selfishly didn't want to let him go, but Damon was his own person before Stefan was sewn into his life. Stefan hadn't actually _met_ **her** face-to-face of his own reckoning in order to avoid the inevitable—that inevitability being in the form of Jenna's beautiful, educated, successful single friend Andie Star. He didn't fear the woman, just what she represented.

Sighing, Stefan's arm tightened around his pillow and he started walking again. When he turned the corner the whisper of voices became more distinct, specifically her giggle to Damon's low tones. He closed his eyes briefly in a light cringe but continued, he'd just resolutely go up the stairs without a word.

"Little brother,"

He inhaled deeply and came to a stop. He couldn't run away now. Stefan pursed his lips briefly before he descended the few steps he'd managed and came to stand reluctantly in the parlor doorway. They were on the sofa, Andie's bare feet in Damon's lap, a glass of red wine in her hand, traditional bourbon in his, the warmth of the lit fireplace the only source of light casting them in an almost romantic glow.

"Hello," Stefan said politely.

"Oh," she chuckled as she took in his sleep-soft appearance, "Are you a cutie or what?"

"So cute." Damon smirked and Stefan glowered in return.

"It's no wonder the history teacher likes you so much." She gestured her wine glass at him.

Stefan tensed; something inside him restricted so tightly one wrong twitch and it would snap. "Excuse me?" he must still be sleep-clogged, there was no way that he'd heard that correct.

"Mr Alaric Saltzman, the hunky history teacher. Mm," Andie sipped her wine. "You're lovers."

"You told her?" it felt like he'd been sucker punched in the gut, the air forced from his lungs.

"Don't worry," Damon waved off his concern. "She knows all my dirty little secrets and isn't going to say a thing to anyone, are you, babe?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," she winked.

_That's not the point._ "You compelled her," Stefan muttered under his breath in realization in a volume that only his brother could have picked up; but the relief didn't wash over him like he wished it had. All there was, was the ringing in his ears, the harsh breath in his throat and his fingernails digging into the doorjamb to keep himself physically upright.

"Definitely easier than pretending to try and be something I'm not," Damon said and Stefan wondered in the back of his mind somewhere if that was a pointed jab towards him. "And a live girlfriend taste significantly better if you know what I mean," he winked and Andie smacked him on the chest with the back of her hand.

Stefan said nothing in response as his gaze flickered between the two; he felt numb in the face of it, like there was just too much swarming muzzily around inside of him and he couldn't separate and process—like he was in shock. His fist clenched into his pillow, his exhale sounded exceedingly loud in his ears as he licked he lips. He needed to leave before that painfully tight coiled _thing_ in his chest snapped and he did something incomprehensible like cry or scream or attack Damon. "I have an exam tomorrow, I'm going to bed." If his voice came out somewhat robotic, he couldn't change that. "Goodnight." He turned promptly on his heel without awaiting a response and thankfully only stumbled a little on the stairs.

He had mind enough to lock his door and turn on the light, but not much else as he stumbled to a standstill in the middle of his room, his pillow dropping to the floor from numb fingers, the headphones coming from around his neck with a yank. He felt a fool, humiliated and helpless and so, **so** angry. The band around his chest was impossibly tight with it that he could scarcely get a breath in—it felt as if it was either going snap or snap _him_. Stefan yanked his sweater off as if that might somehow offer some relief, but did not. He pawed at his chest ineffectually to yank away the invisible force. Was he having a panic attack?! He just couldn't understand why Damon would even tell her about him and Alaric. He felt woozy and claustrophobic like his bedroom walls were shrinking in on him, the band tightening, sparks of light flashing in his blurred vision. Why?

A distant rumbling thunder boom jolted him briefly back into focus and his awareness was directed towards his closed balcony doors. He strode toward them with sudden purpose, turned the key in the deadlock sharply and flung both doors open. Cold wind instantly blew in passed the warm threshold along with the rain—and he stepped out into it.

For a frightening moment his lungs seized completely as he was soaked in seconds by the winter rain; the band expanding in the cold, frozen brittle, and with the very next forceful breath it shattered. He could _breathe_ again. Stefan sucked in sharp, gasping breaths that briefly clouded the air in front of him before the wind banished them and the rain continued to hammer against his skull, his naked skin like needles. His hair plastered to his head, his teeth chattering but he could breathe again, he could hear outside his panicked, strained breath, his tight, racing heart and ringing ears.

He wasn't even out there 7 minutes before he stepped back inside, his arms wrapped around his shivering body. The floor was already wet with the water that had blown in but he left little puddles of his own as he walked dripping to his en suite. He stripped off his soaked flannel pants and briefs, leaving them a sodden pile in the middle of the floor and stepped into the shower. Skin like cold marble, his lips with a shadow of blue, his fingers shook as he turned the handle gradually as he stood under the showerhead from warm until the bathroom was filled with steam and when he finally stepped out, his skin was scalded red.

He quickly dressed in boxers, track pants, his discarded sweater and thick socks to contain the heat before he hung up his wet flannel pants and mopped up the rainwater from the floor with a towel. The teeth chattering had ceased but he was still taken by occasional shudders. He grabbed his bag from the reading chair, his pillow from the floor and sat on it on the floor with his back to the radiator. He pulled out his notes from his bag and opened them in his lap; he didn't want to _think_ about _that_ at least and he really did have an exam tomorrow, Economics and then Math the day after that before it was the start of the new semester next week.

Stefan didn't know how much time elapsed with him staring at the same sentence and absorbing nothing before his annoyance got the best of him and he threw his notebook away frustration. Carding his fingers roughly through his slightly damp hair, he climbed to his feet and grabbed his journal from his nightstand. He was only able to jot down a few forceful lines before he was made to put that down, too; it just seemed to amp up the feelings, not dilute them. And for all that it wasn't even 11:30 p.m.

He paced in irritation, biting his nails. The fact that Damon had compelled Andie not tell anyone his secrets, Stefan's included, seemed to do nothing to alleviate the apprehension and discomfort that she still _knew_. Only 3 people outside the couple had known the secret of their relationship and Stefan was not happy with the fact that it had been expanded without his knowledge or permission.

It was like an unrestricted anger pumping in his blood and he clenched his hands to stop himself from breaking something just to be _active_ in it. It always came down to something. If only they could fast forward to 10 months later then it would be his birthday and he'd be 18 and then it wouldn't matter that he and Alaric loved each other. If only he'd been turned after his birthday, a mere 41 days later and a myriad of problems wouldn't have plagued him the past 145 years. **_If only he was a vampire!_** being a vampire seemed like a safe thing to him now, but he didn’t appear to have that safety net any longer and it was something he couldn’t think about right now.

Infuriated with the situation he was in and once again finding himself inadequate to change anything, he stormed into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He just needed the night to be over with and tomorrow to begin so he could _get out of here_ for a bit and not do something he'd regret later even though he knew it would feel awesome in the moment. He took the bottle of NyQuil and broke the seal, it was the same bottle he'd bought months ago when Alaric started staying over and poured out a cap full. It was a pre-emptive strike in case a cold tried to take him in the night and a blatant act of self-medicating so he could actually fall asleep—no one else needed to know.

By the time he went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, he already started to feel the first effects of the sleep medication. He was so easily influenced now, but right now it as just a relief. He turned out the light and crawled dozily into bed—and had a horrible fucking night of it. It was like he body was fighting against the medicine and he was stuck in some half-state of sleep and awareness, some twisted fever dream of his waking nightmare: Andie reporting Breaking News on the television, a teacher-student love affair; Sherriff Forbes arresting Alaric in class and shoving him into a squad car, the teacher unable to compel his freedom because the Sherriff was on vervain; Sherriff Forbes discovering Alaric was a vampire and informing the Founder's Council; the Council easily following the blood drops back to the Salvatores and it was just vervain, wooden bullets, unmarked graves and cover stories from there.

Until blessedly the alarm woke him up with a shout, covered in sleep sweat. He laid back for a moment, staring up at the ceiling and rubbed a hand over his haggard face and forced himself up. He had a shower but only to wash away the terror sweat and left his hair dry. His reflection looked hungover as he swallowed a couple Tylenol at the sink. He threw on a pair of jeans, a button-up, and found a cap to pull over his hair; he usually took pride in his appearance, he wasn't vain but how you dressed was what people saw first when meeting you and it had served him well in the past—he was too tired to care and needed to get out of here. He stuffed his scattered books back into his bag, remembered to feed Salvatore and headed downstairs.

One thing he could always count on, Andie was always gone in the morning. He didn't think he could handle it right now if he ran into her after last night. As it was, he knew he didn't get a choice in his encounter with Damon due to the extenuating circumstance of blood. Even so he stopped in the front hall to put on his boots and coat and slipped his bag strap over his head; ready to go at a moments notice as he went to the kitchen. He needed a travel mug of coffee and then he'd be ready to leave, the sooner the better.

His fingers tapped impatiently on the counter edge as he was forced to wait for the fresh pot to brew. His night, coupled with his NyQuil induced nightmare did not cool him off; it became very clear when Damon came into the kitchen. The anger had been like a dull buzz at the back of his headache but with his brother's presence it turned into the angry purr of a cornered animal ready to lash out. His shoulders were tense as he listen to Damon's movements behind him; the opening and closing of a cupboard, the tap of a glass on the island, the silverware drawer, the tear of paper towel. Stefan finally exhaled as the pot beeped and he filled his travel mug with hot black coffee; he snapped the lid on the travel mug and finally turned.

"Bottoms up, brother." Damon slid the glass of blood across the island counter where it stopped in front of Stefan just short of the edge.

Stefan didn't reach for it and instead took a drink of coffee; he glanced at it before returning his gaze to the vampire. "No, thanks." There was no want of it, no appetite for it. He started for the doorway.

"I'm sorry," Damon said in faux politeness as his hand came down heavy on Stefan's shoulder in the doorway, halting him, his fingers like claws. "I must have misheard you."

Stefan slowly turned his head to look at his brother, his expression stony, eyes burning, his tone passive aggressive, "I said 'no, thanks'." He jerked his shoulder free and left the kitchen. He only got a few steps before he stopped short as Damon appeared in front of him, glass of blood in hand.

"No, I think it was you who misheard. Drink up, Stefan." He held up the glass. "I don't know what's got your Hero Hair in a tizzy, I don't care. You're not leaving this house until you've had your medicine."

Stefan scoffed, the anger flaring. He took a long drink from the travel mug, keeping eye contact with his brother. He lowered it. "You should," he hissed—and smacked the glass from his brother's hand. Stefan took petty satisfaction in the smashing of glass and the blood running down the wall.

Damon looked at him for a brief moment in surprise before his eyes narrowed and a wicked grin took his lips. "Is that how you really want to play this, little brother? Have in your way because in a minute I'm gonna have it _my_ way. You're drinking my blood whether you want it or not."

But the angry coiled beast inside of Stefan scented the blood, sensed the mounting violence—and salivated eagerly. He _wanted_ to fight. He wanted to mete, needed to be meted. Stefan wasn't a supporter of violence for violence sake, he truly believed in the power of words and only resorted to violence when it was absolutely necessary. When it was needed, he wasn't afraid to dole it out.

And this was needed. It crackled under his skin with the need.

Stefan swung the travel mug at him and in turn Damon knocked it out of his hand; it struck the wall, but the lid stayed on and it simply leaked from the mouth piece as it settled on the floor, the spreading puddle of coffee soaking into the edge of the rug. Damon socked him in the ribs, he was holding back but it was still enough to make Stefan double slightly with bruising force. Stefan fisted the material of his brother's v-neck at the shoulders and cracked his head forward; Damon grunted softly as the cartilage in his nose crunched and Stefan released his hold, allowing the vampire back a step before he smashed him in the side of the head with a sharp elbow and torqued his head roughly to the side.

Damon chuckled and raised his head, blood covering his upper lip, his open-mouthed smile filled with excited fang. "Hello, brother." He said gleefully. "I've missed fighting with you." He arm blurred and he caught Stefan by the throat, his nails digging bloody crescent moons into the skin and he shoved the brunette back forcefully against a side table, knocking some of the contents over, others smashing on the floor. "How you fight better as a human is beyond me but I like it." He straightened his nose with his free hand.

Stefan's own fingernails dug into Damon's wrist ineffectually, but his other hand quickly grabbed whatever it first came into contact with on the side table. He smashed the small decorative vase against the side of Damon's head, it shattering behind his ear.

Damon grumbled in annoyance. "I'm sensing a theme." His fingers found the shard stuck in his neck and when he yanked it with a grimace there was a short spurt of blood before it healed in short order like all his other injuries, but left behind the blood, his shoulder soaked dark with it.

While he was distracted, Stefan bucked his hips disrupting Damon's balance. He kicked the vampire’s knee, forcing him to lose the hold on his neck and was about to slug his when he fist was intercepted in a crushing grip. Damon jerked him forward and twisted his arm, flipping the teen. Stefan groaned and wheezed as he ended up on his back, pain radiating in his shoulder, his satchel jammed under him; Damon quickly straddled him and jammed his forearm into the human's mouth before he could react, his other hand pinning Stefan's wrists above his head on the floor.

"Enough with the fun." Damon growled. "You drink my fucking blood right now, Stefan Salvatore." Stefan's green eyes just blazed furiously back, his breath coming heavy through his nose. "You know you want it, you _always_ want it, little blood sucker. Fighting always makes _me_ want to bite into something."

A glint flashed in his green eyes and that should have been enough warning for the vampire. Stefan bit viciously, making Damon wince as only his pointed canines punched cleaning through the skin, his other flat teeth not so much. Blood filled his mouth and he instinctively swallowed—it was that or drown on it—and clenched his jaw harder. Damon wanted him to have the blood, so be it, he was just doing what his brother told him to. Damon gritted his teeth as Stefan gnashed his teeth into the flesh, his present injuries healing as he strained and writhed under his brother against his hold.

Damon finally tore his arm away, released Stefan's wrists and scrambled back to his feet. "Christ, Stefan!" he cursed, inspecting his arm. "You almost took a chunk out of me!"

"You want to get laid, you want feed on fresh blood, you need to unburden?" he slowly picked himself up, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand; surprising or not there had been minimal spillage. "I'm not going to hold any of that against you, I want you to live your life, have a life outside of me—but you have a problem with Ric and I? You talk to me!" he roared and openly charged the vampire.

As Stefan expected, Damon blurred in a side-step to avoid him but Stefan was already braking with a squeak of hard rubber sole on hardwood, his torso twisting and catapulted backward before Damon could grab the back of his shoulders to throw him, and he rammed his shoulder into the vampire's stomach taking them both to the floor.

Damon wrapped his legs around the Stefan's waist and rolled them, grabbing the front of his brother's jacket. " _That's_ what's got you so riled up?" he gave an incredulous laugh.

"You shouldn't have told her, Damon."

"I compelled her not to say anything so it doesn't matter."

"It does." He said quietly. Stefan was limp in his hold, all the battle anger gone and leaving him exhausted, his headache back.

Damon stared at him for a moment. "Then I'll compel her to forget."

Stefan shook his head. "I’ll still remember." Damon reached a hand behind him and started to undo his belt. "What are you doing?"

"I’ll compel you to forget, too."

"You know it doesn’t work like that. And I’m too angry to forget anyway."

Damon sighed in annoyance. "Damn it, Stefan. You really think I was just talking shit about you and Ric to Andie behind your back? You think I don’t have better things to do with my time when I’m with the woman? Even if it did somehow come up, I was talking about something else and it slipped out, nothing backstabbing worthy—you know I would literally stab you in back not just talk smack. Even hot, dangerous types such as myself need to talk sometimes. You have your confessional, Saint Stefan. I have Andie. It’s like talking to a fucking sexy therapist, she’s a steel trap." He added insightfully, "And my big brother intuition tells me this really isn’t the true source for your anger—perhaps a possible inability to become something else?"

"You can let me up now," Stefan told him stubbornly, pushing ineffectually on his chest.

"Nope," Damon shook his head. "You smashed my head in several times, Stefan, that’s worth a big brother talk."

"Clearly not enough times," Stefan uttered and punched him in the gut.

"Have it your way, little brother." Damon jerked him up by his coat and jerked his head down.

"Augh! What was that for?" Stefan demanded, his hand covering his right eye with his hand as it throbbed hotly like a heartbeat.

"Physical therapy," Damon grinned. He expression turned sombre, "Alright, baby brother. We'll ignore the deep-dark of your tantrum. But, just to clarify," he shifted off Stefan to the floor beside him, knees bent, "Let's face it... I _let_ you do this to me." He nodded down at himself; the wounds themselves had healed, but his grey v-neck was stained a brick red colour with blood, it was on his face and in his hair and covering his arms like smeared sleeves. "Had you been a vampire I would have _broken_ you 3 times over."

Stefan scoffed as he sat up; somehow, for all of Damon's bleeding, Stefan managed to make it through with very minimal blood staining, and somehow none of that was on his clothes. "Now you're just embarrassing yourself, I basically looked like this before we fought." He pulled his cap down properly.

Damon held out his bloodied arm. "Want a lick? Heal that shiner right up," he mocked.

Stefan smiled with teeth, "Fighting makes me want to bite into something."

Damon shook his head in amusement and stood. "You would, wouldn't you, baby fangs? Go to school, Stefan."

"I was trying before you stopped me," he pointed out and climbed to his feet; his satchel settled back in place and he fixed his belt buckle.

"You refused to take your medicine," Damon started back down the hall.

"I need coffee first, you spilt mine." Stefan bent down to retrieve the fallen travel mug as he followed Damon into the kitchen.

"You're the one that threw it at my head." He silently took the travel mug.

Stefan shrugged and laughed, "Physical therapy." He ducked into the freezer for a cold gel pack as Damon refilled his travel mug with fresh coffee. "I take it _you_ already ate," he stared at the blood bags sitting in the bottom drawer for a moment; now that the angry coiled beast had gotten its cage fight and was quiet, it left room for another green-headed monster trying to yawn awake into the space but he quickly shoved it back to the dark.

"Before you bled me out," Damon said dryly.

Stefan grabbed a bag and shut the door. He traded perspective drinks with his brother. "For the record, I'm still upset with you."

"For the record... you always are for something or another."

Stefan paused thoughtfully for a moment on that before he slowly nodded. "That sounds about right." He left, stepping into the bathroom briefly to clean up any blood as Damon forlornly microwaved a glass of blood, leaving the vampire to clean up the mess this time.

It had rained hard last night, only stopping shortly after dawn. The sky still looked grey, but he could see the sun, a single bright point in the sky despite the cloud cover. Puddles covered the drive, the smell of the wet woods strong and clean. The air damp and cool, his breath misting. He carefully navigated around the puddles to his Coupe, tossed his bag into the passenger seat before climbing in. He put on his seatbelt before he pulled his cap low over his brow and managed to tuck the cool gel pack under it against his the outside of his black eye. He drove carefully on the rain-slicked road into town.

Stefan turned the key back with a sigh, the engine dying. He released his seatbelt and pulled the warm gel pack from his hat. He studied his black eye for a moment in his rear-view, it throbbed lightly and felt sharp when he tried to look sharply one way or the other, but at least it was swollen shut. It'd been a long time since he actually saw himself bruised, it was... odd, the crude mark a colour contrast against his skin. He pulled his cap low over his closed eyes and laid his head back against the rest. He didn't have his exam until after lunch, thankfully, and planned to sit in his car in student parking until then, silently finishing off his warm coffee.

Maybe he should have taken Damon up on his offer for a little more blood to heal his eye. Everyone was going to notice, the gossip would spread like wildfire; how would he explain when it was gone the next day, healed from tomorrow's dose of vampire blood? But more than that, what about Ric, Elena, and Bonnie?

Stefan startled, jumping in his seat, actually hitting his head on the roof as someone unexpectedly knocked on his door window. He pushed the cap edge back up his forehead, curiosity along with his surprise in his expression as he manually cranked the window handle. "Caroline," he said with surprise.

She was ducked down a little to see him through the window in her pink coat, purse on her arm, her blond hair loose. Her mouth was open about to say one thing when she caught a clear sight of his blackened eye. "Oh, my god! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Caroline."

"You look like road kill," she said bluntly and he grimaced because he felt a little like road kill, too.

"I had a rough night and morning." He sighed and rubbed tiredly at his uninjured eye. "Can we keep this between us? I don't want to worry Bonnie and Elena."

"How do you expect to do that when it's right there on your face?" In answer he took the sunglass hooked in the visor and slipped them on. She regarded him for a moment with pursed lips and a bit of pity in her eyes. "Okay, no." She straightened. "Can I?" she asked but before he could say anything she was already moving around to the other side of his car and opening the passenger door.

Stefan quickly moved his bag and shoved it in the small storage space behind the seat as Caroline sat in the passenger seat. "What are you doing?" he wondered politely as she opened her purse in her lap. They weren't really friends themselves, more just through association with Bonnie and Elena, but he expected nothing else but such a bold move from the teenager.

She paused from searching her purse and looked over at him with a keen look. "Those are the same glasses you wore the entire first day, aren't they?"

He took them off and put them back in the visor. "How couldn't you possibly remember that?"

"This is me we're talking about, the queen bitch—I notice, especially you being the hot and mysterious new student." She stopped him with a raised hand before he could try and make denials of the title. "Should I be calling my mom, Stefan?"

He looked at her in confusion before he made the connection of black eye and Sherriff. "No. No." He shook his head. "Damon might be my legal guardian but we're still brothers and brothers fight sometimes, no matter how old we are—and sometimes punches are exchanged." He admitted after a short pause, "I threw the first punch."

"I suppose your brother just brings that out in people," she said mildly. Caroline considered his injured eye for a moment. "Perse," she murmured under her breath. "The colour of your bruise," she answered his confused look. "This happen last night or this morning?"

"This morning,"

She nodded. "Thought so. Fresh bruises are harder to cover because the dark colour and I didn't exactly come prepared for this kind of cover up—maybe a zit, not a black eye—but 'failure' is not Caroline Forbes' middle name."

He looked at all the makeup items she'd taken from her purse and lined up on the dash in front of her. "You're certainly ready for _something_. Do you even need all this? You'd look more beautiful without it, Caroline." He said honestly.

"Wow," she looked at him for a brief vulnerable and open minute. "You really mean that, don't you? You're not just saying that with the ulterior motive of getting into my pants later."

"Of course not!"

"You're special, Stefan. Anyone every tell you that?"

"I'd settle for normal," Stefan muttered.

"Too bad," she chuckled. "'Cause there's nothing typical about you." She took his chin and angled his face better. "Close your eye," she instructed.

He did and sat still as she applied the first cosmetic to his tender eye, then the next and next; sometimes using the supplied brush, sometimes dabbing carefully around his eye with her pinkie tip. He quickly became distracted from her process with the expression on her face; the intense concentration in her gaze, the slight part to her pink painted lips.

"There," she sat back with satisfaction, releasing him.

He blinked a bit, coming back to present, having somehow been lulled into a intermediate state of mind. He swallowed and turned to his rear-view mirror. He inspected his eye closely, resisting to urge to _touch_ it, to see if the bruise still somehow existed. There was a noticeable fold with his swollen eyelid and the colour didn’t quite seem exactly right on close inspection, but that was because he knew it was there. "Should I worry how _you_ know how to do this sort of thing?" Stefan murmured in concern, turning his gaze from his reflection to the cheerleader.

"I'm a cheerleader, Stefan. Bruises come with the territory sometimes." She returned the makeup to her purse. "Anyway, that should keep the questions at bay—for today at least."

Stefan nodded. "Thank you, Caroline." He said sincerely.

"Don't worry about it," the lunch bell rang. "Come on," she told him. "You buy me lunch." And she was out of his Coupe before he could say anything otherwise.

Stefan reached behind the seat to grab his bag, took his keys from the ignition and locked up the car. He lengthened his stride to catch up with blond; he did owe her. He also realized how hungry he was, not having eaten breakfast this morning, just coffee and blood. They found and joined Bonnie and Elena's table in the cafeteria who were a little surprised to see Stefan and Caroline together, but had no suspicions of a black eye.

The pain, it helped him to focus, to ground himself against the anger. Pain had been a near constant thing throughout his life, mortal and immortal in one form or another. The physical, the mental; they levelled either side of the scale, created an abstract sense of balance. Physical pain gave him an anchor in reality from drowning in his mental turmoil—it was something he could always count on at some point or another—and right now he needed it. His fight with Damon had spent some of the boiling, frothing anger, and this lingering pain allowed him to lock it down for the moment, allowed him the temporary mentality of distance, the clarity over the anger to regain himself against the situation.

After lunch, it was time for his Economics exam, which Bonnie and Matt also had; Elena already took her exam that morning but had decided to stick around. He had no intention of going home early today so there was no rush; Stefan took his time on the multiple choice questions and the paper he had to write, despite knowing he could have done it in half the allotted time on a normal day. As it was, even though he got some food in him during lunch a headache still pulsed in his brain and his body was exhausted with him mind lagging; he'd hunched over his paper, elbow on the desk, temple resting on his fist. Even as he'd unconsciously massage his temple under the edge of his cap to help alleviate some of the pain, he had to remind himself not to rub at his right eye tiredly and ruin Caroline's work.

Stefan was in the boy's bathroom long after the final bell had rung; he'd already said goodbye to Bonnie and Elena, he'd see them tomorrow for their final exam, math. Alone, he studied his expression in the smudged mirror above the short row of automatic sinks. He still looked like he was supporting a rough hangover; his complexion pallid, a slight down turned tick at the corners of his mouth, exhaustion shadowed his gaze with the sliver of pain; but the absence of a black eye improved his appearance greatly, saving him from appearing like a thug with his black cap pulled low. Caroline had been right when she said it was more difficult to cover up a fresh, dark bruise; some of it bled through the foundation, but he looked less conspicuous for it, with the dark sleepless smudges clear under his left eye. He sent another silent thank you into the ether to the bubbly blond teenager.

It had only been partially true when he said he didn't want to worry Bonnie and Elena, but he also didn't want to incite their anger towards Damon, either. They'd want a reparation of his blood in return, maybe even a little of Stefan's own for his inciting actions. There was no point in causing a huge fuss about it when it was just going to be healed the next morning—because it just reminded him how weak and vulnerable he was now.

Stefan turned away from his reflection and gave his head an irritated shake as he pushed out the boy's bathroom and into the empty hallway. The clip of his boot heels were the only sound as he walked further into the virtually empty school to his decided destination.

Alaric raised his gaze from the essay he'd been reading, slumped back in his chair behind his desk, feet kicked up onto the corner, absently chewing on the end of his red pen at the sound at Stefan's steadily closing footsteps and watched curiously as the brunette casually closed the classroom door behind him.

"Mind if I join you, Mr Saltzman?" Stefan elicited.

Alaric's brow flickered with question and mild amusement, but gestured welcomingly with his pen. The vampire watched as he claimed a seat second in but in direct correlation to Alaric's desk, his bag tossed into the seat next to him.

"This is the opening to a very enticing porn sequence," Alaric murmured, continuing to gaze at him over his paper, his pen tapping across his lips.

"You keeping doing that with your pen and it very well might be," Stefan teased him.

"Mm," the teacher agreed but after a moment he stopped. He put the pen and paper down and dropped his feet. "Everything alright, Stefan? You look... tired." He settled on.

A brief smile turned the corner of his lips as Stefan propped his chin in his palm. "Rough night, rough morning." His fingers tapped a discordant staccato against his right cheek, just below the bruise and boarder of makeup. He had a _lingering_ injury, it was almost a foreign concept to him. It was why he wanted to touch it, pick at it; to reaffirm that it was actually there. "It okay if I just sit here for a while, while you work?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm just getting a start on today's exams."

"Don't let me stop you, but for my frail sanity please keep it PG with the pen or I might get jealous."

Alaric chuckled. "I'll try, but no guarantees." Forearms on the desk, he picked up the paper.

Stefan watched him, his gaze half-lidded. Soon, his vision blurred unfocused as his eyelids drooped lower, his fingers twitching to an unconscious stop until his eyes closed altogether. Alaric dropped from his focus and a white feather drifted gently across his gaze before it was eclipsed by the powerful pump of gorgeous angel wings, sweeping the feather away and drawing his focus. Stefan could swear he felt the airstreams left by the powerful appendages—just as the soft sweep of the feather tips across the right side of his face like a promise and a kiss. He let out a soft sigh at the stroke of cool, gentle fingers on his face and opened his slightly to see Ric crouched in front of him.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Mm," on the tired cusp, Stefan folded his right arm and laid his head in the comfortable crook, nuzzling into it.

"You must really have been tired." Alaric noted quietly. "What were you dreaming about that's got you so happy?"

"Angel wings." He said. "What time is it?"

"After 7; time to go home. You okay to drive?"

Stefan nodded his head a little against his arm before he rose his head and sat back. "Yeah, just give me a minute to wake up." He rubbed a hand over his face without thinking, pulling his cap off and running a hand through his unruly hair.

"Take your time." Alaric studied him for a moment, his gaze slightly narrowed. Other than the obvious signs of Stefan's fatigue and headache, there was something else _off_ that was trying to evade his keen gaze. He registered the discolouring around Stefan's right eye subconsciously, his body moving in instinctive response even before it consciously registered. Stefan stilled but didn't push his hand away as Alaric carefully traced the uneven, smudged tone around his eye. "Is this makeup?" he asked in confusion, rubbing his thumb, index, and middle fingers together.

"Caroline's master work."

"What happened?" Alaric rose from his crouch to revisit his desk for a moment before he returned with some Kleenex dampened with bottled water and sat in the desk in front of Stefan, twisting around. "If you were hurt, why didn't you take some of Damon's blood," Stefan allowed it as he was able to gently wiped most of the foundation away, but even still partially covered, the dark bruise easily bleed through, "Or come to me?"

"That was kind of the problem," he uttered, but of course the vampire caught it anyway.

Alaric's expression tightened with the realization. "Damon did this."

"It's fine," Stefan was quick to reassure as he saw the shadow of engorged veins pulse to the surface under the dirty-blond's eyes with the surge of anger.

"This is _not_ fine!"

"I asked for it, in not so many words. He knows me too well sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

Stefan sighed and pulled his cap back over his hair and low on his brow. "Let's just say that I found out last night that Damon did something that he shouldn't have, especially without talking about it with me first and I stewed overnight. That, with a bad night's sleep coupled into an aggressive anger that needed its own blood offering—and here we are."

Alaric's gaze kept shifting to the bruise against his will; it made him remember the terribly bruises he'd left on Stefan's back, the cracked rib when he threw the brunette across the room into the chest of drawers in his surprise—but the fact that Stefan had tried to cover his eye up made seem all the more nasty. It made him angry. It made him want to punch something; more specifically _someone_ but that wasn't what was on his mind when he said, "Maybe I should come home with you tonight."

In theory, Stefan would love nothing more than that but reality was a different thing; he knew Damon wouldn't be stupid enough to bring Andie over for the night, tonight at least (and that was one thing temporarily solved) but putting Damon and Alaric together right now would only cause more strife. "That is not a good idea."

He sighed. "Are you going to tell me what he did at least?" Alaric finally asked.

"It's nothing to worry about anymore." Damon would compel Andie to forget about he and Alaric being in a relationship and everything else would go back to the way it was. Under different circumstances he would be ashamed at himself for allowing, even wanting, _needing_ Damon to alter Andie's mind because of his own peace of mind and their taboo relationship but the context was what it was, and there was no need to plague Alaric with the thoughts. 10 months and it was a trouble they wouldn't have to burden themselves with anymore.

"Would you rather stay at mine?"

Stefan exhaled, his fingers tracing his daylight ring on Alaric's middle finger, his right hand flat on the desktop. New Year's at Alaric's had been a one time occurrence, Stefan hadn't been around since. It was too risky and Alaric had much more ease with coming to stay over at the Boarding House without it nosey neighbours, but for the past month when Damon started to bring Andie around. He'd been reticent to have Alaric spend the weekend, which was the usual and he'd typically stay at his apartment during the week. But the past month it felt like they'd only seen each other during the school day, the last time he recalled kissing Alaric had been Monday, the last they slept with each other was 2 weeks ago which had been the last time the vampire had stayed over; though they did talk on the phone, Stefan just wanted to be with him for god's sake.

"It's probably better if I go home," he admitted. Alaric curled a finger under his chin and lifted Stefan face to search his eyes. "It's just a black eye; it'll be gone by morning."

"I know; but it is far from 'just', Stefan."

"I guess I bruise easy," he shrugged.

"Bruises shouldn't be easy to come by,"

Stefan couldn't help roll his eyes a little at that. "You sound like Caroline; she asked if she should call her mom, but trust me, I know what abuse is. I might have been considered Giuseppe's favourite son, the aforementioned 'Golden Boy', but that never exempted me from his ire. I was just better at pleasing the man than Damon, who actively defied and publicly embarrassed him." Stefan pulled his hand away and squeezed it. "And if Damon hadn't been a vampire, I would have killed him at least twice over in our fight this morning. Granted, he was holding back... but it still stands."

"I would have killed your father myself if I could," Alaric whispered with venom.

Stefan stood from the desk, slowly shaking his head. "You're not a killer and I won't let you turn into one because of me." He took hold of either side of the vampire's head and pressed a kiss to his forehead, his eyes closed. He'd already dragged Bonnie down into it, made her complicit it in Katherine's death, something he never wanted for the witch. While he was grateful that she'd helped save both himself and Alaric, he despised the price she paid for it. He rose and pulled his bag strap over his shoulder, his intention of leaving clear.

Alaric stood and blocked his path. "If you don't recall, I was the one that killed Logan Fell and that had nothing to do with you."

"You killed him before we could," Stefan pointed out.

Alaric put his hands heavily on Stefan shoulders, squeezing him at the crook. "Seeing as neither of us can go back in time and take those deaths for ourselves," he said wryly and Stefan snorted.

"You know, my life as a vampire was less absurd than it has been as a human so far. You'd think it would be the other way around."

"Life works in mysterious ways that way," Alaric agreed before pulling the teen in briefly in an embrace, cupping the back of his capped head. Stefan breathed him in against his neck for a moment.

"I'll see you tomorrow,"

He released the brunette with some reluctance. "Goodnight, Stefan. Drive safe,"

...

Stefan only sat in his car for a minute in the driveway when he got home before he climbed from the classic vehicle; there was no point in delaying the inevitable encounter, it wouldn't change anything. Despite knowing Damon would be smart about this and only seeing his Camaro convertible in the drive, Stefan was still tense when he stepped inside. He hung up his coat, slipped off his boots and hung his bag on the banister at the bottom of the staircase to take up later. He didn't intentionally seek out his brother and went to the kitchen; he was hungry and not in the mood to put effort into anything so he cooked a box of yellow Kraft Dinner on the stove. He mixed it in the pot but didn't bother to put it in a bowl and just took the still-warm pot with him to his bedroom; he paused to pull his satchel strap overhead at the bottom of the stairs and spooned elbow macaroni into his mouth as he climbed the steps.

He finally encountered Damon at the top landing coming from his bedroom before Stefan could turn the opposite direction to his own. They regarded each other for a quiet moment; Damon's gaze marginally lingered on the his shiner.

"Did you--?" Stefan started with some reluctance and without want to actually voice the previous request.

"Erase my girlfriend's memory of your taboo relationship with the high school history teacher?" Damon said bluntly.

Stefan straightened a little. "Yes," he answered with brevity.

"Yes," Damon annunciated with the same and moved passed him down the stairs.

Stefan turned, his gaze following his descending brother until he lost sight of him, a distinct shame crashing down on him. He absconded to his room, absently and distractedly eating the Kraft Dinner on rote as his mind was a jumble of self accusations on his reaction on the matter and he could _just_ hear the tittered glee of Katherine laughing at him. Had he gone a step too far? Damon had already compelled Andie to not spill his secrets and yet...

it was too late for doubts now.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Stefan set his rinsed out coffee mug in the sink before he left the kitchen and headed for the stairs. It was Friday, already after school, he'd come home to change both clothes and vehicle and had told Bonnie to be ready, he'd be picking her up at 5. Alaric and Bonnie’s birthday were both in February, just a day apart; Ric's on the 4th (yesterday), Bonnie's on the 5th (today)—the timing of it actually worked.

It almost felt like his consciousness shuttered to a halt and froze in place even as his body carried on passed the doorway and climbed up the stairs. Damon and Andie were been in the parlor, wherein Damon was _feeding her his blood_ with a wrist to her mouth. Stefan leaned heavily on his closed bedroom door, his palms pressed flat against the wood for a moment as emotion swirled in his chest and he swallowed thickly against it. _No_ , he chastised himself; he wasn't going to trouble himself with it, tonight least of all and banished the thoughts of _Vicki Donovan_ that tried to rear up. Damon wasn't that stupid, not twice, at least; and that let Stefan push his apprehension aside and focus on tonight.

He'd gotten a mini cake for Bonnie from the bakery that she loved and gifted it to her at school, but tonight he was taking her out on a ride. When she'd seen his bike, she'd gushed over it and begged him to take her out on it—tonight that wish was coming true. There was a music festival of indie bands in the city he was taking her to and then she was going to have a sleepover, girls weekend with Elena and Caroline.

Stefan had already spent last night with Alaric on his birthday, even woke up with him this morning to give the vampire his present and a proper goodbye, before he caught a commercial flight at 7:30 tonight back to Boston to spend the weekend with his elderly parents. It would be Alaric's first time leaving Mystic Falls as a vampire, but it was an important trip.

When Stefan had turned he didn't have to worry about the family he would have to leave behind with his immortality; he killed his father and though Damon had shunned him, he was of the immortal world as well. Alaric parents were still alive, he has a host of aunts, uncles, and cousins that were still alive, even if a bit distant now that he had grown, moved away and married. It would be under 8 years before he was forced to cut ties, before his parents would notice how he hadn't aged a day since he'd last visited; this was something the teacher needed while he could still have it and Stefan wasn't going to deny him, no matter how nervous it made the brunette. Alaric had a system here in Mystic Falls that he could rely on when it came to blood and feeding; the neighbouring county blood banks he and Damon compelled a steady supply of blood from and Stefan himself.

Though Alaric would only be spending the weekend, he couldn't take blood bags with him (unless he wanted to compel his way through a line-up of airport security and the Power for that just simply wouldn't be worth it) so they'd looked up blood banks in Boston the other night and Stefan told him it would be wise to fill up on blood before the flight just in case. Being on a flight, as short as it was, could be nerve-wracking for any normal human, that anxiety could also be magnified for a vampire who could be a sponge toward those kind of cramped, amped atmosphere so it was best to fill up and lesson the chance of vamping-out. As a vampire, when Stefan thought it was time to move on to another city or town, he typically drove and it became its own adventure and experience. The fake IDs he compelled into existence when he decided to settle were standard; driver's license (which was typically all he needed with a healthy dash of compulsion); there was only a handful of times he'd sprung for a passport to fly overseas. But Alaric's passport was legit and he didn't have to worry about that.

But more than that, the only humans Alaric had feed from were Bonnie (to complete his transition) and Stefan; he didn't have to go out and hunt for food, to lure and compel a stranger for a feeding, some might even say he was spoiled for it. Going to Boston meant going out of his comfort zone; Stefan hadn't had to think about it until now because there had been no reason to. He and Alaric were together; he either fed from Stefan or blood bags and there was no need for a third menu option, but Stefan hadn't even considered the option of the vampire leaving town (and without him). By the time it was noticed that Alaric didn't seem to age, Stefan would have already been turned and they'd just leave together—or that was the simplistic, fantasy world reason when in true reality it brought up the buried and whispered insecurities of _if Alaric can just go out and feed on any human, what's the point of keeping me?_ If Stefan couldn't give him something that anyone else could... it was easy because blood bags were impersonal, like a ready cut piece of steak; they didn't have a face. But go to the slaughter house, put a face to the steak and it was all the more personal. Feeding from someone's neck; able to feel the natural warmth of their blood, the flutter of their heart, the smell and feel of their skin, the gasp and stutter of breath—that was sensual and erotic to a vampire, could have the intimacy of sex.

Alaric hadn't even brought up the notion of it while they'd been searching for Boston blood banks, but it was a dark cloud stuffed in Stefan's chest and though he voiced it like he was being dragged over broken glass, it needed to be said because _what if something happened_? He could only think that the emotions the concept of the vampire feeding from someone else was probably the same way Alaric felt when Stefan had kissed Elena, even if it had been accidental and meant nothing. Yet, Alaric had trusted him and Stefan could only do the same, all the while silently wishing his damnedest that there was no situation that Alaric felt the need to feed from someone else. The sex and feeding that followed that conversation had been on a new scale of intense and beyond rational description and passion.

Stefan changed into a solid dark green button-up, checked his appearance briefly in his en suit, made sure he had his wallet with cash, his cell phone; he separated the silver eagle medallion keychain with its single key from his main ring, and grabbed his black leather jacket laid on the foot of his bed from this morning before he headed downstairs. He could hear Andie's car start as he came down and pull out as he pulled on his buckled boots in the front hall.

"Don't stay out too late, little brother." Damon teased when he returned through the front door.

Stefan straightened, his fist tightening around the leather in his hand as the scene of Damon feeding Andie his blood resurged in his mind's eye. "You're feeding her your blood now?" he said crisply and with disapproval; Damon rolled his eyes. "Tell me you're not that stupid, brother, please."

"What? Jealous 'cause she'll actually be able to turn into a vampire should she die in a fiery wreck?"

"Asshole," Stefan told him, it was warranted, before he continued sombrely, "I managed to save you from what could have been a terrible and devastating fallout with Vicki, don't think I can pull that miracle off twice in my current condition."

Damon heaved a sigh. "You worry too much. I just feed from her a bit enthusiastically and thought it was the gentlemanly thing to do to top her off with a bit of blood before she went to work, no biggie. If _you_ get into a car wreck, on the other hand."

Stefan slipped on his leather jacket, pulling up the zipper in a sharp movement and buttoned the strap across the collar. "Then there really would be nothing either of us could do—Bonnie won't be able to bring me back a second time. _That_ is at least one thing I'm certain of," Stefan was only able to note the mirco-tightening of the vampire's expression because he knew his brother so well.

"That's half the fun." He snarked and brushed passed the brunette down the hall.

Stefan turned and watched him for a moment with a slow shake of the head before he left out the front door. His T-100 Triumph sat waiting for him in the drive, shined and fully gassed. It was one of the few genuine gifts from Damon, paid for legally without compulsion and without some ulterior or malicious motive tagged onto it—and Stefan loved it. He took a moment to appreciate it before he pulled one of the awaiting helmets on and threaded the strap, the second helmet was secured to the back of the seat pending the second rider (the helmets were new; there had been no reason for them prior and he had loved the sense of freedom cruising down the highway unencumbered, the wind and scenery blasting passed him had enraptured in him. Of course, that had been the advantage of vampirism and near immortality; these days... his skull now held the delicacy of an egg shell without the regenerative abilities of Humpty-Dumpty).

He the bike and with a steady hold on the handlebar grips he rocked the motorcycle back then forward and popped it off the centerstand and caught it as it came down. Key in the ignition, Stefan went through the familiar routine of starting the Triumph and feeling the engine come alive between his legs. He listened to the blissful sound for a moment before he released the throttle and made his way down the drive. A huge smile was already splitting his mouth by the time he made it to the highway and was fast gaining speed, his body and the bike near symbiotic as he leaned into the curves. This was the closest he was like to get to vampire speed for a while, if ever and pushed those tangled thoughts away; it was Bonnie's 17 birthday, time for celebration.

He arrived in front of her house, popping the kickstand at the curb. Before he could even consider getting off the bike, let alone take off his helmet to go up the house, the screen door to the quaint little house was opening and slamming shut and Bonnie was hopping from the porch and skipping down the stone path towards him with a excited grin. She was clad in all black; a waist cut leather jacket, snug leather hip-huggers, knee-high leather boots and carrying a small purse. Her typically straight hair done up in curls, she had smoky eyes, and swirl earrings. She hopped to halt on the sidewalk beside him.

Stefan let out a wolf whistle, "You look hot, Bennett."

"Speak for yourself, Salvatore." She gave him a blatant check out as he stepped off the bike. "That helmet is very sexy,"

"Safety first," he knocked on it and she chuckled. "It'll do wonders for your hair," he teased her, "But first..." he turned back to the bike and she watched curiously as he opened up the backseat cover that her helmet was strapped to, to reveal storage space and took out a small tissue wrapped gift. "Here," he handed it to her and took her purse, putting it safely into the space before shutting it again before the birthday girl could properly protest. "A little something for the ride."

"You've already given me more than enough--"

"Bonnie, you've gone beyond for me," he squeezed her biceps warmly, "but more than that—you're my friend. So, you have to accept my gift," he shrugged with a smirk, "That's how it works."

"Thank you, Stefan." She whispered.

"You haven't even opened it," he laughed lightly. "Maybe you won't even like it."

"It's the thought that counts." She opened the tissue paper and gave a little gasp as she ran the material through her hand; a simple, yet beautiful neckerchief with a little primrose on it (her favourite flower) with her initials embroidered in the leaves. "It's beautiful, Stefan!" she gave him a quick but warm hug and immediately knotted it around her slim neck.

"Pretty and practical," he smiled. "It can get cold on the open road. And the finishing touch," he handed over her helmet for the night and helped her with the security strap. "Perfect."

Stefan got un first, putting up the kickstand and straightening the motorcycle beneath him and the engine turned over, rumbling gently in neutral. With a supporting hand on the back of his shoulder, Bonnie sat astride the seat behinds her, her feet finding the supports. He waited patiently as she shifted and adjusted behind him into a comfortable and secure position against his back; her thighs along his hips, her chest to his back, and arms around his waist.

"You good?" he questioned.

"Yes."

"Just lean with me," he told her, "Let your body follow mine." Her arms tightened briefly around him when he pulled from the curb, but he was only doing 20 through town and it was a good adjustment period for the witch because when the past the welcome sign, he could feel her confidence. And when he opened up on the highway, her whoops! and laughs of enjoyment were easy to hear as they were to feel.

It was little over an hour before they made it into the city; the scenery of darkening sky and awakening stars to the buzz of activity and energy in the city. Stefan left the Triumph in the safety of a parking garage 2 blocks away from the grounds and they got takeout slices on the way; signs, flyers, and posters easily guiding their way. There were merchandise booths for each of the bands playing a set; no huge names just indie bands, but the crowd was big and the music good and all that mattered was that Bonnie had a fun time and came out of it with lots of pictures and video to make her best-friends jealous.

Stefan dropped Bonnie back home by midnight, Elena's SUV already in the driveway indicating her and Caroline's awaiting company in the house. He took his own time making it back to the Boarding House; Stefan also had great time, a normal night with his friends without worries of his brother's stupid mistakes when it came to women from this town, and Alaric away and out of his reach—but nothing bad happened so far in regards to either and the brunette counted that as success and celebration for the night.

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 


	21. CHAPTER 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry for the long wait but here it is.
> 
> **Chapter Includes/Spoilers/WARNING:** Valentine's Day - blood special!, smut, March Break, guy bonding

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Stefan had ventured up into the attic and after almost an hour of searching through trunks, breathing in dust and fighting the urge to sneeze (that he was sometimes on the losing side of), he now sat at his computer in his room with an unknown cobweb stuck in his gelled hair, and his personal cookery manuscript open in front of him. It was the one he'd started in the earlier 1940's when he'd attended culinary school as a hobby before he joined the war effort; it contained his favourite recipes, his own twists jotted down in the margins, his own recipes... but the ones that he was interested in now catered to more iron-loving creatures.

Animal blood was an acquired taste, he had been forced to drink it out of desperate necessity. It was that or fall into the hungry desperation of an unhinged Ripper, but that still didn't mean he liked the taste, he'd just grown tolerant of the abhorrent taste over the decades. It was at the culinary school, upon taking a specialty course, that he discovered a way to get his blood and have it even taste tolerable while eating it.

Cooking with blood.

He said tolerable because how much they used spices and chocolate to mask the stronger metallic taste; a vampire's taste was keen when it came to blood—any blood. It was hard to get away with just putting animal blood in his Cheerios instead of milk; a bit easier with blood mimosas. Of course, blood wise, such a small measure of blood was cooked into the food that it would never sate a vampire but was more like a delicacy to cook with animal blood.

Lexi had humoured him once and once only when he'd first been experimenting with it and though it had been hilarious to see her reaction, it became a game of keeping any piece of furniture between them with her teary eyes of dry heaving and him stumbling around with laughter (even after she got a hold of him and kicked his ass, literally).

He was not going to the butcher's for blood like Elena had for him when he was injured and unable to hunt for himself. No matter how fresh the butcher said it was... Stefan just shuddered thinking of it, a memory of the taste in his mouth making him want to gag and purge long ago blood from his body. And other than the fact that he'd have to hunt like a human now (to got the freshest possible blood), he had no intention of feeding Alaric animal blood even if it was in a smidge more tolerable state, it was for Valentine's Day. And Stefan was going to substitute pig blood—for his own.

He hadn't been able to do anything truly significant for Alaric on his birthday a week prior, technically his thirty-fourth and his first as a vampire, so Stefan had every intention of making it up to the dirty-blond tonight. Despite Valentine's falling mid-week, it didn't change the plan. Damon was going to be gone with Andie on a 'hot date', giving Stefan and Alaric free reign of the Boarding House after what felt like months. Alaric was finally going to be cooking dinner but Stefan was going to surprise him with dessert.

Taking his recipe book with him, Stefan went down to the kitchen. It was only 5 and Alaric was coming a bit later, which gave Stefan just enough time to make his desserts and still have it be a surprise.

Soon, the island counter was filled with his prep of measured ingredients and mixing bowls for his 2 chosen recipes of: blood-chocolate pudding with bing cherries and blood macarons. But before he got started on all that, there was still the matter of the main ingredient—his blood.

Stefan stood at the counter beside the kitchen sink, the left cuff unbuttoned and his sleeve rolled up passed his elbow. He swabbed just below the crook of his elbow with a alcohol wipe from the open first aid kit on the counter; while it would be easier to just cut himself and bleed into a receptacle, to be healed next he drank his regularly scheduled dose of vampire blood, it would just cause a mess and resulting blow up. He inserted the needle into his vein with a steady hand and was easily able to click the vacutain tube into the barrel attached to the needle, filling with his warm, red blood. He did it twice more before he removed the needle and pressed a small circular band aid over the bloodied prick. What wasn't in the kit, he had, with a bit of a slight of hand and silver tongue, got what he needed with a visit to the clinic (something that would have been a lot simpler and easier had he been a vampire with speed and compulsion) but he'd gotten away clean.

He rolled down his sleeve covering the evidence and turned back to the island with his blood. Reading over the recipes as he worked, he was easily able to integrate his fresh measured blood into the recipes and soon had 2 ramekin of pudding to set in the fridge and 2 baking sheets of macaron biscuits cooled and ready to be filled. For the pudding he simply added the blood as another ingredient, but for the macarons he replaced the eggs with his blood (making them turn a vibrant red) and put a few drops in the almond-raspberry filling, making it a delicate pink that he piped in between 2 pieces. Human blood for vampire's didn't need an enhancement or embellishment, it was already at its peak in regards to taste; cooking the blood into dessert was just like highlighting a dish with caviar or truffle shavings.

Leaving them on the baking sheet for the moment (he'd gotten tissue cups to put them into and a heart-shaped box) and Stefan packed up the first aid kit, washed out the bloodied instrument and sealed them in a container he put under the sink to discard properly later. When he rose and turned, he gave a slight start to find Damon leaning on the other side of the island, his palms spread on the edge of the counter with a peculiar look gracing his face as he regarded the tray of macarons.

"I thought you left already." Stefan prompted, his gaze flickering briefly between the two.

"I was and then I wasn't."

Stefan straightened. "You better not have cancelled with Andie, you said--"

"Relax. Don't worry, I'll be gone before lover boy gets here. You're more laid-back when you get laid, so, trust me, I'm not gonna step in front of that." Stefan just pursed his lips in reply and Damon smirked. "So, explain yourself and I'll be on my way that much faster."

"They're almond-raspberry macarons. For Ric," he added, as if that would prompt his brother to leave before he wanted to leave.

"But these aren't just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill macarons, are they?" Damon challenged. "I can smell the blood, Stefan."

Stefan swallowed and inconspicuously, if subconsciously, crossed his arms over his chest, his hand squeezing the crook of his elbow and the tiny band aid that lay beneath the sleeve as if to hide it further from his brother's already unknowing state. "That's because I cooked blood into them,"

"Won't Martha Stuart be jealous,"

Stefan huffed in annoyance. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" he prompted

"All in good time, little brother." Damon replied coolly. Stefan rocked slightly forward with the resisted urge to _step_ forward and take the tray away; that would just entice his brother. But Damon easily caught the aborted move. "Now, being the extraordinary big brother that I am, I would be remiss if I didn't taste-test some of these lest your little experiment turns your Valentine's night amiss."

"What? Don--" but before Stefan could stop him, Damon had already picked up a macaron and bit into it.

Damon didn't seem to realize it was Stefan's blood he was smelling. It was easier for a vampire to disguish from human blood and animal blood in time, but it took certain nuance and exposure to distinguish one person's blood over another. There must have been interference in the scent with it having been baked into the biscuit because while Damon hadn't tasted his human blood before, he smelt it enough that he should have recognized it. And even though it was easier to distinguish by taste, the raven-haired vampire didn't have a baseline to go from.

Stefan's stomach did a weird flip-flop as he watched Damon pop the rest of a macaron in his mouth; eating his blood. Clearly there was no recognition or Damon's reaction would have been entirely different to the soft sound of pleasure at what he was eating.

"Gotta hand it to you, brother, these aren't half bad." Damon plucked up 3 more from the tray. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he winked and left.

Stefan only stared after him for a moment, the typical quip dead on his tongue. There was confliction, the brunette not sure which feeling was stronger; the relief or the disappointment. He gave himself an internal shake; of course it shouldn't matter to him, it was something that shouldn't matter to him—and yet.

Blood for Stefan had never been about sex, even with how interconnected the 2 aspects were tied in vampires. It had never been some wicked carnal desire but the literal physical need for blood, his quest to sate his unending hunger. Though Katherine's foreplay was bloodplay before they had sex and Stefan actually enjoyed it when Alaric drank from him when they made love; he'd only ever been human. As a vampire, the 2 never mixed or touched base; when he was hungry, he fed; when he desperately needed that intimate connection, he had sex.

He wasn't jealous that Damon and Andie were having intercourse, the jealousy stemmed (perhaps irrationally) from Damon feeding from her and especially him feeding her his blood (though that was mostly a rational concern than irrational jealousy). Feeding Damon his blood would just be a form of... taking care of his big brother.

He had this infernal necessity to be needed and wanted and useful; they were all tied together and dependent on each other. He couldn't be useful if he wasn't wanted if he wasn't needed. Throwing himself in front of danger, going out of his way, pre-emptive action. But the true anchor through it all, the one constant—blood. Even before becoming a vampire, he'd had an unhealthy relationship with blood thanks to his father. And though Katherine's method was of a different sort from Giuseppe's, the wicked tone was too similar. Then afterward, a vampire, it was his turn to create his own method and manner—always taking.

This time was different; he could give, provide—he wanted to. He'd at least gotten Alaric to agree to feed from him, if he hadn't, Stefan probably would have lost his mind. He had offered (pleaded desperately, really, because he truly had been) and Alaric had taken it and it was something only he could give him at the moment. It was like an exchanged between the 2 of them, the feeding, the biting, the sharing.

And right now, he was feeling a bit of that. Stefan bit the inside of his cheek as he felt some sort of dark satisfaction feeling deep in his chest; Damon was eating his blood on the way to his date with his girlfriend. He shouldn't feel the need to one-up his brother's girlfriend, yet there it was. It would probably always be there, that need and want to have his brother and keep him close; that was what started this whole thing 145 years ago.

He finished putting the macrons in the tissue cups, licking the bit of cream that was on his thumb and filled the empty heart with the biscuits. 10 fit into the box perfectly, leaving an odd 1 out; guess Damon did him a favour by stealing those 4. Stefan put the lid on the heart and curious, picked up the treat from the tissue cup; there would be no harm in trying it, it was his own blood after all and god knew he'd drank plenty of his own before. He could barely taste the iron aftertaste; in fact, had he not known he'd cooked his blood in it, he didn't think he'd even taste it through the tang of the raspberry in the filling.

He shrugged and ate the rest of the macaron and started washing the mixing bowls and other kitchenware in the sink. He was halfway through when he heard the front door slam, the crinkle of bags, shuffling feet down the hall and quiet cursing. Stefan flicked the bubbles from his fingers and dried his hands on the tea towel, tossing it across his shoulder as he stepped through the open kitchen doorway into the hallway. Stefan managed to stifle the laughter but not the smile as he watched the vampire. Alaric was an easy figure to spot, especially carrying 3 paper bags, 1 in each arm and the third balanced precariously in-between and blocking his view as he shuffled down the rug lining the hallway floorboards in the hopes of not tripping.

Alaric came to a stop, his knee raising as the middle bag shifted precariously between the other 2, balancing on 1 leg and spying Stefan over the edge. "Are you just going to stand there, smiling, or are you going to grab this bag before I drop it? I can feel it tearing."

"Are you sure?" Stefan approached at a leisurely pace as he teased, "You clearly had a plan here, I'd hate to intrude on that."

"I was trying to save time and myself a trip."

"This is just one of those things that you keep repeating and never learn from, no matter how many times the bag literally tears." Stefan took center bag, holding it by the bottom and Alaric straightened.

"It's a guy thing," he shrugged, shifting the bags better in his arms.

"That's why there are people like Elena who put me onto things like reusable shopping bags,"

"Now you're just bragging."

"You're just jealous," Stefan headed back for the kitchen. "They have handles, don't break, and don't need your boyfriend to come to your rescue." He set the torn bag on the island counter. "They're very useful at this point in my life."

"But you coming to the rescue is the whole point," Alaric put his paper bags on the counter.

Stefan turn to him with consideration as Alaric looked back at him with a deadpan expression if a little anticipatory. "Nice save,"

Alaric smiled and kissed him. "Thanks. What's this?" he spotted the heart beyond the bags, an unexpected splash of colour in the kitchen of cast iron, marble, and varnished cabinets.

"I made it for you," Stefan pushed the heart box across the counter to the dirty-blond. "Happy Valentine's Day."

He smiled. "I like it already." Alaric opened it and an alertness came over him as he got a sweet waft of blood. "Why do I smell blood?"

"Try one and find out," Stefan invited with his own anticipation.

Alaric looked even more curious as he looked between Stefan and the heart box. He picked up a macaron from the tissue cup at the center and smelt it; he could smell the raspberry and a hint of almond, but most unmistakably was the smell of blood. He took a bite and he knew. This wasn't just any blood, it was Stefan's. There wasn't very much but he was able to easily separate it from the tanginess and sweetness of the cream filling. They didn't overpower each other, the blood was just enough to be a delectable tease.

"Well?" Stefan questioned; it was one thing and reasonable that Damon hadn't recognized it as his blood, but if Alaric didn't realize it would be a whole other thing.

Alaric blinked back to present, not even realizing that he'd finished the cookie. "There's blood in this. Your blood." He gave his head a slow shake in amazement. "I didn't know you could get anymore delicious, I was proven wrong." Alaric put his hands on his hips and drew the brunette close, nibbling at his lips playfully.

Stefan gave a small chuckle. "I'm not supposed to be the one cooking tonight," he reminded, but didn't step back just slipped the lid back on the box. "Wouldn't want to ruin your appetite."

"Trust me, my appetite won't be a problem." One hand stroked up Stefan's flank, the other south of the boarder.

"We just need a little protection, then." Stefan stepped from Alaric's arms and over to the pantry and took the apron from the hook on the inside of the door. "Safety first." He put the neck loop over Alaric's head and pressed closed, his arms wrapped around the vampire as he tied a blind bow with the apron strings. He took a step back and gave a satisfied sigh, biting his bottom lip, "And cutie-pie is back in action!"

Alaric raised a brow, hands planted on his hips and chin rose. "I'm only 'cutie-pie' when I wear the apron?"

Stefan gave a small shrug. "If the apron fits." He ran his hand down Alaric's chest appreciatively and the lettering on the apron: ' _Just the Appetizer'_. "You could always take off the rest of your clothes and you wouldn't even have to cook..."

"Okay, alright." Alaric removed his hand, amused and a bit aroused. "Hate to say this, but—keep it in your pants, this cooking thing is happening!"

Stefan raised his hands and backed off, but it was with a smirk. "The kitchen is yours!" he perched out of the way on a stool.

Alaric eyed him for a moment before he nodded in satisfaction and went around to the other side of the island and started to unpack his paper bags. He sorted and separated, found the pots and pans he needed; washed his hands and set to work. The brunette was content to watch. At least if Alaric did cut himself this time, Stefan didn't have to worry about being on him in a frenzy and sucking him dry.

50 minutes later, they sat in the dining room at the table with candles lit between them and Alaric's dinner of tenderloin with mushroom and caramelized onion in a dark beer sauce, and potato roasted in blue cheese; Stefan savoured every bite. Plate cleared but for a few smears of rich coloured mushroom gravy, Stefan sat back with a satisfied sigh, taking a sip of his wine.

Alaric looked across at him, his arms folded along the edge of the table, his own plate clean. "I take it you liked it, then?"

"Yes. It was lovely," Stefan agreed. "So, the real question is," he leaned forward, setting his wine glass down and cocked his head slightly, "Why haven't you cooked this for me sooner? You've been holding out on me, Ric."

"I could say the same,"

Stefan stood and leaned over his plate, his palms flat on the tabletop. "That, and more." He blew out the candles between them.

"Oh?" Alaric's brow rose, along with him.

Stefan finished his wine. "Oh," he agreed. He picked up his plate and with an enticing look, left the dining room.

Alaric quickly took up his own plate and followed after to the kitchen. "You already made those macarons, what else could you have up your sleeve?" he took Stefan's plate, rinsed them then shut both in the dishwasher rack.

Stefan rested his forearms on Alaric's shoulders, his fingers scratching lightly at the hair at his nape. "Just dessert."

Alaric wrapped his arms around the brunette's waist. "I can't eat the macarons for dessert?" he couldn't help but pout a little, which Stefan couldn't resist kissing.

"No. Something better."

"Oh?" his arms tightened, pulling Stefan against him.

Stefan turned from Alaric's arms and the vampire watched in delight as Stefan all but danced around the kitchen in a fluid sequence; pulling open the silverware drawer and setting a dessertspoon on the island with a faint clink, spinning to the fridge and taking out a plastic wrapped ramekin next the spoon, a slide brought him to the cupboard. Alaric's groan drew his attention and Stefan turned from the cupboard with a saucer in hand to find the man with the ramekin in hand, a dessertspoon between his lips.

Stefan quirked a thick brow. "You found your way into that no problem,"

The vampire had the decency look sheepish. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." The spoon scraped the bottom of the ramekin and he coyly licked the spoon.

Stefan chuffed in amusement, went to the fridge for the second ramekin; Alaric was still and watched the brunette carefully as he took the empty one from his hand and set it down, before slowly backing away with the other. "Come on,"

"What am I, a dog?" but after a moment Alaric followed him from the kitchen, dessertspoon in hand.

They sat with their backs to either arm of the leather couch in the library, feet in each other's lap, the fireplace lit; Stefan with a red port and Alaric enjoying the second ramekin of chocolate blood pudding with Bing cherry garnish. Stefan would have been exceedingly jealous of the pudding if it wasn't made from his own blood; as it was, he was getting pretty turned on with the way the vampire was eating the pudding with such intensity and desire. Alaric cleared the remnants of the pudding away with his finger and sucked it.

"If you weren't eating me right now, I might be just a little jealous." Stefan sipped his port.

Alaric set the empty ramekin on the coffee table and crawled between his legs. "You're real bacon, baby, why would I turn anywhere else." He pressed a kiss to his mouth.

Stefan set his glass on the end table, licking his lips. "Don't I know it."

Alaric pupils darkened. "You tried some?"

"Just a macaron." It was probably best to take it to his grave that Damon ate 4 for all their sakes. Alaric had come to accept Stefan having to drink Damon's blood, but didn't think he'd be so tolerant of Damon drinking his blood; and Damon was his own story.

Alaric crashed his lips against Stefan's and Stefan gasped into his mouth, arms looping around his neck and legs around his waist as Alaric's arms encircled his back, lifting the brunette from the couch. He flitted up the stairs, carrying Stefan, kissing him all the way. He came to a stop, one hand braced against the doorjamb to the bedroom to brace for harmless impact instead of Stefan's back. The door swung open, hitting gently against the wall behind. Alaric entered. Stefan expected to be tossed on his bed, anticipated it, instead Alaric lowered him on it, intimate of its own stead. Alaric released his mouth and Stefan turned his head, fingers in the thick dirty-blond hair as Alaric kissed down the column of his neck—and got his first look at his bedroom. The only light in the bedroom was candlelight, candles scattered around the room; he only just noticed the soft music in the background; the faint floral smell of roses, the loose petals scattered.

"Ric," he whispered and after a brief moment the vampire leaned up to look at him. "You did all this?" a ball of emotion formed in his throat and he swallowed convulsively.

Alaric glanced over his shoulder. "Too much? Too cheesy?"

Stefan cupped his face with both hands, gave his head little shake with the inability to _express_ what he wanted and pulled Alaric into a sweet, slow kiss. His past romantic life had been nil before Alaric, even more abysmal than his Christmas record. There was Katherine and the few, desperate one-night stands to curb the crushing loneliness; there was no romantic Valentine's expression of love and care. The only Valentine's Day he ever had was platonically with Lexi (on one occasion, it being a pretty bad year, they indulged, pretended to be a married couple [one of the few occasions this occurred], compelled their way onto an aeroplane from New York to Paris and spent Valentine's at the Eiffel Tower in 1953). And as cheesy and expected as this might be in some romance film, it wasn't to Stefan.

When the kiss broke, Alaric stared at him for a moment, thumb caressing his cheek before he sat back on his knees between his legs and started to painstakingly undo the buttons of Stefan's shirt. He sat up at the last button and let Alaric push it from his shoulders and off his arms before tossing it to the floor. Stefan's warm palms pushed up under Alaric's hem, caressing up his sides as the vampire unbuttoned his own shirt and tossed it behind on the floor. The rest followed. When they were both naked, Stefan sat up on his knees and with a hand to the nape of his neck, kissed his boyfriend; Alaric returned the kiss but didn't let it deepen.

He reached around the brunette and grabbed a pillow, placing it center at the foot of the bed. "Lay; on your stomach."

With a brief curious look at him, Stefan laid on his stomach, bunching the pillow comfortably under his chest with a sigh. Alaric shifted behind him, straddled the back of his thighs and picked up the waiting bottle standing on the nightstand. Stefan heard the snap of the bottle lid and a little quaver went through him in anticipation; he gave a little jolt when Alaric's hands touched either of his shoulders instead of the expected place.

"What--?" Stefan mumbled as Alaric's hands brushed down the back on his shoulders and the scent of lavender reached his nose.

"Massage," Alaric murmured. "Relax." And his _oiled_ thumbs pressed into the base of his neck. "I got you."

An involuntary grunt left him as Alaric kneaded his neck and shoulders, rubbed down his back, pressed into the tight bunches of muscle under his skin with what just felt like the exact right pressure. Alaric's hands, the oil, his skin warmed under the attention; knots of stress and tension in his neck, shoulders, and spine that he didn't even know he'd been carrying loosened and unravelled.

"Uuuuhhhhnn," it was like the moan was pulled from the ether, drawn into existence from his own volition. It was deep, like it was pulled from his core, and wanton and he couldn't stop it even if he tried. But even then, boneless, feeling like a blissfully puddle, his cheek laid on the pillow, his eyes hooded—Alaric continued to massage him; rubbing the backs of his upper arms, down his sides, thumbs stroking up from the edge of his buttocks and one particular bone started to reassert itself into the situation at the continued pleasure. He started to tense up but it was a good tension, his muscles heating up with arousal. Alaric's thumb pressed over the cleft in his crack, the digit going between his cheeks and the pad pressed against his ring. Stefan's hips flexed back and a puff of air escaped his lips when Alaric pressed the oiled digit passed the barrier.

There was a slight sheen to Stefan's skin in the soft flickering glow of the candles when Alaric finally settled over his back, pressed fully inside the stimulated cavity, the brunette's knees spread to give him better leverage and depth. With a minimal amount of weight braced on his forearms, just enough to allow him movement and not crush the teen when he did, Alaric rocked his hips.

Alaric mouthed the back of his shoulders and neck, a random enticement of flat teeth but no fang as he continued to rock against Stefan, the head of his cock pressed against Stefan's prostate and continued soft stimulation on the bundle of nerves. Stefan's breathless grunts turned into low lewd groans; the flush of his skin was gorgeous, each bead of sweat. His erection trapped under him, pressed against the covers; the rose petals on the bed were like cool silk against his bare skin.

Stefan didn't know what it was, the fact of Alaric's thumbs stroking the sensitive skin beneath his armpits as he rocked or how his head lay against the pillow with his folded arms, or maybe it was the fact that Alaric's body eclipsed his, but it reminded the brunette of their first time together.

Stefan hadn't been touched sexually in decades before Alaric at Duke; it had certainly been worth the celibacy. Even then, without even knowing each other, Alaric had known how to ground Stefan while letting him fly; a squeeze on his hip, a stroke of his cock, the caress of breath at his nape, kisses spattered across the back of his shoulders, the gentle nip of teeth; Alaric's touch, his smell, his sound, his presence. It gave Stefan the safety and freedom to come apart but the presence to put himself back together again. Unlike Elena, who had just simply made him feel out of control when they made out; made him feel like he was gonna explode in a bad and bloody way.

And just like that first time, Stefan was overtaken with the insane pressure of his orgasm building, it filled every fibre—but so did the feel of his rushing blood, the feel of his pounding heart in his chest, the sound. With it, the ghost pain in his gums, the urgent need of relief, to sink fangs into malleable flesh, drink. Stefan whimpered with the desire, like a stake in his chest but then he was crying out instead of biting down and the release was so powerful, so pleasing that he collapsed into further boneless ecstasy.

Alaric slumped against him after his own orgasm but Stefan wasn't crushed by the vampire's full weight, was comforted to take the weight. He rested his stubbled cheek against the back of Stefan's shoulder, waiting without rush for the teenager to level presence of awareness, content in his draped state, able to feel every breath, the beat of his heart through his naked back. Stefan gave a content sigh and Alaric's nose nuzzled behind his ear, his hairline damp with sweat. He gave a minute shift and Alaric read it clear enough; he leaned up and to the side on his forearm, carefully pulled out and slumped onto his side next to the brunette, their legs tangled and the pillow shared.

Alaric carded his fingers through the human's sweat-damp locks, "You falling asleep on me?"

"Mm," Stefan's response was to sling an arm over him, push him onto his back, and semi drape over him, his head lay beneath Alaric' collarbone. "I love you,"

Alaric managed to peck his forehead. "I love you, too, Stef."

"Same time next year?"

He chuckled. "More than just next year," he promised.

...

Stefan was enticed into wakefulness by 2 very enticing and mouth-watering aromas. He promptly sat up, inhaling deeply upon the drifting scents of caffeine and bacon.

Alaric chuckled from the foot of the bed and Stefan finally opened his green eyes that morning. "Sure-fire way to wake Stefan Salvatore in the morning; coffee and bacon."

"You made me breakfast in bed," Stefan smiled. Alaric came around to his side of the bed and set the tray in the brunette's blanket covered lap, and sat on the edge by his knee. It was bacon, scrambled eggs and buttered toast, steaming black coffee, a glass of blood, and some orange juice; everything that needed to be steaming still was. "Thank you."

Alaric leaned forward and gave Stefan a kiss before he leaned back, he plucked a stray rose petal from the mussed strands. "Eat your breakfast then shower, you have the time." He rubbed the silky petal between his thumb and forefinger.

Stefan checked the teacher out as he took his first sip of coffee of the morning, clad in a Duke tee and a pair of boxers. "Did you wear the apron?"

"Yes."

"You should have woken me up," Stefan speared some eggs with his fort.

"I thought you liked sleeping in?"

"Not when you're wearing the apron and your underwear." He countered.

Alaric wondered, "What is it with you and the apron?"

"It's _you_ plus the apron." Stefan corrected and answered with a shrug and "You look sexy in it with that stay-at-home-dad vibe."

"I'm not sure how I should feel about that," he admitted after a moment.

"It's a compliment," Stefan assured him. "It just makes me happy. Like, when Damon zipped up my coat like he used to fix the buttons on my jackets when I was little; sometimes I would miss a button on purpose just so he'd kneel down in front of me, give me a fond admonishment and fix it. Or when Bonnie practically dances and always looks so happy when I surprise her with a cupcake from the bakery. Or when Elena invites me over to have dinner with her, Jenna, and Jeremy. And when you want to cook." He shrugged and focused on eating his food.

Alaric watched him eat for a moment before he reached across and brushed the back of his knuckles gently down Stefan’s cheek, making him look up. "I'm glad we can made you happy, Stef."

"I love all of you," Stefan told him. "Of course you make me happy."

"We all love you, too."

"So, when you said 'shower'," Stefan questioned a moment later, "You really meant 'shower together', right?" he suggested around a piece of crisp bacon. "No hanky-panky." Alaric raised his brow at that. "No over-indulgent hanky-panky," he corrected.

"Better." Alaric gave a little grin.

"It's a school morning, what do you take me for?" he offered the dirty-blond the last piece of bacon and finally picked up the glass of the vampire's blood. Stefan leaned back against the headboard as he drank, his knee nudging the teacher's hip. "Did you feed?"

Alaric nodded. "Had a bag and, um," he cleared his throat, "Some macarons."

"Treats for breakfast, Ric?" he _tsk_ ed teasingly.

"They're good. You should take it as a compliment."

Stefan set the finished glass on the tray with the other empty dishes and pushed the tray onto his nightstand. "I do, my hearing's just better in the shower. It's the acoustics," he threw off the blanket, still naked from the previous night and climbed over the distracted vampire. "Come on, you're wasting precious time." He took Alaric's hand and pulled him up and along to the bathroom through the rose petals still covering the bedroom floor.

"You don't have to tell me a second time," his gaze was devouring as he looked at his boyfriend, only pausing long enough to strip from his shirt and boxers before he met the brunette in the stall under the spray.

...

After showering and dressing, Alaric still left before Stefan. Having known he was going to be staying overnight at the Boarding House, had left his work in his car so there was no need to stop off at his own apartment and headed for the high school so he'd arrive before the students.

Stefan fed Salvatore and was left to clean up the scattered rose petals, not that he minded. He paused, brushing a petal over his lips and remembered last night with a little smile; definitely a first making love in a bed of silky rose petals. The way they were like cool little touches against his heated skin as Ric rocked him into oblivion.

He ran his tongue over his top teeth and gums as he finished clearing up the petals on the bed as he also remembered something else. The phantom pain in his gums from the urge to drop his fangs, that need to sink them into flesh, feel the satisfying give of breaking through and the rewarding flood of pure liquid warmth in his mouth. He'd triggered the old instinct inside of himself with his own heartbeat, the rush of blood in his ears, even his own excited breathing. Thankfully his orgasm hit and he'd been diverted from actually biting something (which probably would have been his own arm again) to giving a guttural cry of Alaric's name.

He licked his lips before he shook his head in denial and wiped his mouth like trying to erase a bad taste. Stefan had been doing the biting the past 145 years after all, it was an ingrained instinct in him by now and being human for a bit over 2 months didn't just give him automatic clean slate, didn't erase what being the ultimate predator for all that time shifted in him.

He grabbed his leather jacket and took his Triumph to school instead of his Porche Karmanne Coup, needing that extra rush, the little edge of peril it added to drive away the surfacing past urge. He'd already tried to tear into Alaric's throat and actually managed to sink his teeth in Damon's arm, getting that give and blood—that needed to be enough.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Stefan collapsed onto the tangle of long grass by the rocky edge of the quarry falls, panting for breath as he rose a hand to block out the glaring March sun. The spot, right here, made a sense of déjà vu brush against the back of mind like fuzzy electricity trying to ignite a dead memory and in this instant, Stefan believed that to mean literally. Not just some forgotten memory, but a memory from when he was dead, the ache in his head it incited was familiar enough to prompt him to stop trying. He'd recently taken to running most mornings again, along with his usual schedule of running in the early evenings; feeling human made _being_ human more real and that was something he felt he sorely needed right now. Since that little... hiccup during Valentine's Day, feeling human, reasserting the fact that he was human to himself, was helping him to burry that old hatchet of vampirism, at least for the time being.

Running was the most healthy and least suspicious way Stefan could think of doing that; his body's automatic responses to the physical exertion was the most honest indicator he had. As a vampire, it took quite a bit of effort to even pant and sweat, let alone feel the burning strain of exertion in the muscles. He had entertained the idea of cutting himself, it would be the most efficient way of reasserting to himself that he was in fact human; the lingering pain and lack instantaneous healing but it was quickly disqualified because his brother and boyfriend were both vampire's who would quickly catch on with the scent of blood, and because Stefan was drinking their blood and it would invalidate the entire process. He couldn't use hunger as any sort of measure either, not when he was ravenous for blood as a vampire and not when his hunger was being controlled now by the daily intake of vampire blood.

So, running had been the winner and it was working thus far, also with the bonus of keeping him in shape, kept him from being cooped up in the Boarding House, and allowed him space without garnering a watchful look.

But lately, the past week or so, there had been itch between his shoulder blades with no discernable source that filled him with a nervous energy and fuelled his runs. He had subtly been scanning his surroundings when he felt the itch arise, on his runs, at school, the Grill, but he could never detect anything amiss in his surroundings or suspicious people. Damon and Alaric with their sharper vampire instincts and senses weren't acting twitchy themselves or as if anything was up, and Stefan was coming to the conclusion that he was just being paranoid. It wasn't an unfounded feeling; not with Katherine, who, even before coming to Mystic Falls last year, had also been watching him for decades or those lapis lazuli eyes from his dreams that were just too inciting not to be _real,_ be _someone_ out there; yet he had no definitive evidence that something was wrong, not even circumstantial—just the itch between his shoulder blades. So, he attempted to ignore even as the feeling instantly straightened his spine and put him on alert—let's just say it was a process that garnered a few questioning looks despite himself, his body just reacted instinctively to the perceived danger. It was very annoying and stressful.

Stefan finally sat up, wiping the sweat covering his face on the sleeve of his t-shirt before he pulled it off overhead. He also pulled his shoes and socks off before he stood and pushed his shorts off (his cell phone in the pocket) leaving him just in a pair of briefs (he liked the support when he ran)—and jumped off the cliff, leaving his stuff in a pile on the grass.

He kept his eyes open and watched the surface of the dark water close in fast, something in his chest tightening briefly. He tucked his knees to his chest and took a breath a moment before he met the water. It was like a muffled boom in his ears. Despite the warm air, the water was cold and Stefan resisted the urge to gasp as the water swallowed him. He remembered drowning with a fractured sense of reality, the fear and desperation, but how could he have been drowning when he had been safely dead on dry land?

Stefan was purposefully listless in the water, letting himself lethargically sink towards the bottom, the bright overhead sun battling to penetrate into the dark depths. Air bubbles intermittedly left his nostrils. This didn't have the same comfort as sinking into the warm bubble bath in Damon's tub, or the needed cold shock of the pouring rain to pull him from his spiral; but it had its own purpose—temporary escape. The water, everything so distant down here in the still depths was like a temporal dimension, removed from the hectic surface leaving him free-floating in his own limited pocket of isolation, removed, but his window slammed shut with an unforeseen circumstance.

Stefan felt the burn in his nose before his lungs and he kicked his feet, powerfully propelling him to the surface and light and back into the real world. He broke the surface with a gasp and started coughing; water in his nose, blood down the back of his throat. He hadn't gotten a nosebleed since he'd been drinking vampire blood regularly, nor the sudden onset of the sharp migraine that proceeded the sequence; he still got normal migraines that if didn't clear up with some extra strength Tylenol, then his next dose of blood did. It must have been a culmination of that dizzying déjà vu and the depth pressure of the water. He spat out blood and pinched the bridge of his nose, treading water. The bleed wasn't heavy, thankfully, and stopped after a minute. Stefan splashed the water onto his face, cleaning the blood away from the lower half of his face before he swam to the shore and climbed out of the water. He scrubbed a hand through his wet hair to get rid of the excess water and sluiced the extra drops from his skin.

Warmed by the sun, he was practically already dry by the time he climbed the easiest path back up the cliff where his belongings were but for his damp briefs. He quickly redressed and thought it best not to linger at the moment. In consideration of the nose bleed, instead of running back to the Boarding House he did a paced jog. He came in through the back door kitchen with an unconscious roll off his shoulders, like shrugging off that paranoid itch that had him returning faster than a jog precedented.

He wanted a hot shower, which would be his second order of business, but first he grabbed a cold bottle from the fridge. Damon came from the basement carrying a bottle of bourbon as he was drinking.

"You smell like a pond," Damon noted after he shut the basement door. "Did you swim in the quarry or something?"

"Yes."

"It's March, are you trying to catch pneumonia?"

Stefan resisted the smirk the grouchy tone elicited in the neck of his water bottle. "Can I use your bath?" he asked instead of trying dignifying that with a response. He'd had that experience once already when he was still a sickly child of 7 in 1854; he'd only been fully recovered for a few months before their mother fell gravely ill with TB and Giuseppe sent her away to the TB ward to die alone. He had no intention repeating it, not when he'd already spent a week in the hospital his second go-around as human. Damon eyed him for a moment, probably remembering the events of the last time Stefan was in his tub. Stefan rolled his eyes and deadpanned, "If I was going to drown myself, I would have done it at the quarry where you never would have been able to stop me."

The edges of Damon's expression went hard and brittle, his shoulders rigid and before the brunette even cringe at the delayed realization the impact of the offhand comment would have the bourbon bottle it Damon's hand made a loud popping sound, making Stefan involuntarily jolt as it exploded in his brother's hand, showering alcohol and glass over him and on the tile floor.

"Jeez, Damon!" Stefan exclaimed as Damon just casually and negligently shook out his bloodied and riddled hand in response.

Quickly shoving his feet back into his discarded sneakers at the inside of the door, Stefan quickly went around the island and grasped his brother's wrist, his foot sweeping away the shattered glass in a few broad strokes from the vampire's socked feet.

"It's fine. I heal, remember? I am a vampire, I have a tendency to do that from time to time." Damon said but he didn't pull his hand away and just watched as Stefan carefully pulled the glass from his palm, his own hands growing slick with Damon's blood. The extracted shards clinked amid the others on the floor when he dropped them.

Stefan carefully ran his thumb across the sensitive skin of Damon's newly healed palm, smearing away the blood to make sure he got them all. With an exhale, he released Damon's hand. "Don't move or I'm going to be pulling glass from your feet, too, and that's the last thing you want." Stefan warned. "I know how... _sensitive_ your feet are." He dismantled the morning newspaper from the counter, using it to scoop and collect the larger pieces of glass around Damon's feet and put the into the trash.

"Say a word to anyone and you'll regret it." Damon uttered, standing still.

Stefan tore off a wad of Bounty from the roll, crouched, and used it to mop up the spilled bourbon and smaller shards. He went to the trash bin. "Damon," he started. "I didn't mean to sound so cavalier, about the bath and especially after before..." Stefan could only imagine what it would be like to lose Damon and didn't want to go any further than that. Damon didn't have to imagine that, he experienced it for several excruciating hours.

"You mean, where you were fucking desiccated and Bonnie was chanting over your body," Damon responded harshly and Stefan cringed. "And water just started to bubble and pour out of your mouth?"

His gaze drifted briefly. "I remember." Stefan's fingers unconsciously wiped his upper lip; his fingers smelled like bourbon and were tacky with Damon's blood. He blinked at his hands for a second before he turned to the sink and washed them with the dish soap and dried them on a tea towel.

Damon narrowed his eyes. "Remember what, exactly?"

Stefan pinched the bridge of his nose and he closed his eyes. "Drowning—I think." He dropped his hand, opened his eyes and gave his head a little shake. "I don't know. It's better if I don't even try to remember, it just gives me a headache." He went to go passed but Damon stopped him with his unbloodied hand flat on his chest.

"Stefan," Damon said slowly. "Did you get another nosebleed?"

He sighed. "Just a small one," he promised. "I'm fine."

"You know how I feel about the word 'fine' coming outta your mouth." Damon deadpanned.

"You're impossible!" Stefan complained.

"Talk." Damon pushed him back into the stool behind him and still didn't drop his hand from Stefan's chest.

Stefan huffed but didn't try and fight the hand. "It was just this weird sense of déjà vu when I was standing at the edge of the cliff near the falls, and when I was in the water. Which is weird because I felt absolutely nothing when I laid in the same spot Bonnie brought me back on the shore," he said that last part more to himself in thought.

Damon's hand on his chest turned into a fist clenched in his t-shirt. "You did what?"

"Nothing happened, that was months ago." Damon narrowed his eyes and Stefan looked back at him. "So, can I use your bath?" he questioned when his brother didn't say anything in response.

"Fine." He finally said. "Just don't do anything weird."

"You don't even have a door, what weird things do you think I'm gonna do?"

Damon eyed him for another moment before releasing his shirt and turned back to the basement door. "With you, I can never tell." He disappeared down the darkened stair to retrieve another bottle.

Stefan gave his head a little shake and stood. The soles of his shoes stuck to the tile as he went to the open two-way door to the hall and took them in hand at the threshold; he'd just Swiffer-mop the kitchen when he was done with his bath. He tossed his running shoes on the mat with the others in the entrance hall before he went up to his room. He stripped and put on his robe, grabbed a pile of his own towels, his shampoo from his shower and walked down the hall to Damon's room. He put his towels on the large counter space and set the shampoo and clean cloth on the back ledge by the tub. He started to fill it, sprinkling some bath salts and bubbles in from Damon's collection and sat on the side of the tub to wait.

Stefan looked up from turning off the faucet to see Damon come around the other side of his four-poster king bed to the nightstand. "Came to baby-sit me?"

"Forgot my phone." Damon held it up as he left not even bothering to glance in his direction.

"When you talk to Bonnie," he said knowingly, knowing his brother would hear him. "Don't freak out and yell at her over nothing and tell her I'll call her later when I'm out of the bath." He could practically feel the responding eye roll.

Stefan stood, hung his robe on the empty hook next to Damon's own by the bath. He stepped in the bath and lowered himself into the hot water with a sigh and relaxed back against the slope, slowly sinking lower. Exhaling through his nose as he breached the top layer of bubbles and under the surface of the waiting water below, submerging himself. This was definitely on the other side of the spectrum compared to cold, murky depths of the quarry. He didn't stay under long enough to even feel the strain or have the urge to burst back to the surface. He washed with the cloth, shampooed his hair and dunked back underneath to rinse before he relaxed back comfortably on the slope, his arms laid on the edge and closed his eyes.

He must have dozed off because the next he opened his eyes, the water was lukewarm and the bubbles had dissipated. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and pulled the plug on the side with other and rose from the draining tub. He dried with his towels and tied his robe in a loose knot and made his way back to his room, damp towels in hand. He stretched his arms overhead, the towel edge falling in his face as it went through his body with satisfaction and he ended up on his pruny toes in his doorway, hands pressed up against the top of the frame, his robe coming loose—to 2 unexpected exclaims of his name.

Making a sharp sound himself, Stefan quickly dropped his towelled hands in front of himself and turned. He quickly fixed his robe and tightened the knot in the belt. "A little warning next time, please." He turned back. "What are you two doing here?"

"Sorry, Stefan." There was amusement in Bonnie's voice, "But we could have used a little warning ourselves." She smirked a little when she looked over at Elena.

"Damon called you?" Stefan tossed the towels in the hamper and went to his chest of drawers. "You didn't have to come."

"He called while we were already on our way here," Bonnie told him.

"But he definitely said nothing about you, um, being in the bath." Elena waved an embarrassed hand.

"Of course he didn't," Stefan muttered under his breath. "So, why were you already on your way?" he looked over his shoulder at her, clearing drawing a blank.

"We're all going to the Grill, remember, to decide where we're gonna go for the break?" Elena said.

"Ah. It must have slipped my mind, sorry." Stefan quickly rifled through his drawers. "Give me 10 to get ready."

"You can have 15," Bonnie said generously, sitting comfortably in his reading chair. "We'll wait."

Stefan dressed and gelled in the bathroom, coming out in a pair of blue jeans, plain black t-shirt, and plaid over shirt. He grabbed his wallet and cell phone and was good to go. After putting on his light jacket and buckle boots from the entrance hall, he found himself once again sitting in the backseat of Bonnie's Prius.

"So, do you want to talk about why Damon called?" Bonnie wondered as she pulled from the driveway onto the highway.

"It was just..." Stefan blew puffed out his cheeks, "An otherworldly déjà vu." Was the only way he could describe it, definitely more powerful than your run-of-the-mill déjà vu. "It was odd, though, that I would experience that top of the cliff and even in the water but not where I was actually brought back."

"I think this 'otherworldly déjà vu' that your talking about is residual magic from the spell." Bonnie said. "The spell that brought you back was a two-sided spell, meaning it was cast both here on the living side and there on the Other Side." She gestured. "Emily's side of the spell was what magically pushed you back here to This Side, my part of the spell basically just drew your spirit to the Gilbert ring and anchored you back into your body."

"That's not nothing, Bon." Elena scoffed. "You brought Stefan back."

"Yeah," Bonnie uttered, glancing back at him in the rear-view mirror. "Just to send you off dying again."

"Bonnie!" Stefan exclaimed in horror. "Please tell me you're not blaming yourself for that? There's no way you could have known about the deterioration, especially as I was hiding it from everyone and when you did find out, you found a solution." He leaned forward and reached around the seat to squeeze her shoulder. "You gave me a second chance at something I barely got the chance to have the first time. You really don't know how much you've saved me, Bonnie."

Bonnie gnawed on her bottom lip, still uncertain. "What about the possibility of taking away your choice to become a vampire again?" she whispered. "To be w--"

He stopped her, that future scenario locked away in his mental vault. "I'm not going to worry about that now, there's actually time enough that I don't have to. Right now I just want to accumulate on all the things I've missed out during the last 16 times I've done the high school thing."

"You want normal?" Elena questioned. "You can't get any more normal than March Break."

They were the last to arrive; Caroline, Matt, and Tyler already sitting at a booth.

"Hey, guys." Matt shifted out to let the girls slid in next to Caroline but instead of trying to squish uncomfortably back in he grabbed 2 chairs from a neighbouring table for him and Stefan. "Here."

"Thanks." Stefan said. "Are you still working?" he wondered when he noticed the blond was still wearing his Grill work shirt.

"Got off an hour ago, just didn't see the point in going home just to come back here."

"Now that we're all here, lets order and get started." Caroline said. "And no talking with food in your mouth, please." She directed a pointed look at Tyler.

Tyler rolled his eye. "Yes, Your Highness." It was 10 minutes before everyone had order and was served.

"Okay, first thing that needs to be decided is exactly what we're going to be doing for 3 days _out_ of Mystic Falls." Caroline set up her tablet in front of her plate. They spent half an hour spit-balling ideas, until they finally decided after some searching on the internet, something they would all enjoy; Kings Dominion theme park. The future valedictorian was able to order 6, 3 day passes online right there. "You guys can comp me your share for the tickets."

"What about a place to stay?" Bonnie asked.

"I refuse to stay at a hotel that has an average Yelp review below 3 stars," Caroline put her foot down straight off. "I want to be able to trust that I'm sleeping in freshly laundered sheets, it's a hygiene thing." Everyone else looked around the table at each other before there was a definitive chorus of agreement. "Good. The park's website has a list of suggested hotels that we can just choose from." She scrolled.

"Not anything too fancy and expensive," Matt said. "There's no point in paying extra for something when we're not even going to be staying in the rooms half the time."

"Two rooms should be fine," Elena said. "One for the boys, one for the girls."

"I'm not sharing a bed with one of these two," Tyler added.

"The rooms don't come with 3 beds," Caroline pointed out with an eye roll. "We have no problem with sharing," she nodded at her girlfriends. "Why can't you?"

"Girls sharing a bed is hot, it's different with guys."

"Sharing a bed with a guy doesn't make you gay, Tyler." Elena scoffed.

"Hey, this has nothing to be with being gay or not." Tyler protested.

"We can just get a room with a pullout or something." Matt peaceably interceded. "'Cause I really don't wanna share a bed either."

"I have no problem sleeping on a pullout," Stefan offered.

"We can switch." Matt countered. "Each of us gets a night on the pullout. Right, Tyler?"

"Yeah, alright." Tyler shrugged. He looked back at the girls, "See? Problem solved. You didn't have to go and make it about sexual orientation or anything. Christ, get over yourselves, my uncle's bi. This is the 21st century, and this might be a small town in Virginia but just because I'm a jackass sometimes doesn't mean I'm a bigot."

"Point taken, Tyler." Elena and Caroline conceded.

"Alright, I've got a good hotel that's got a good rate, 3 stars on Yelp, and a 20 minute drive to the park." Caroline did some rapid tapping on her tablet. "And... we are booked! 2 rooms with 2 double beds, adjoining. Here's a picture of the room," she turned it to show the boys. "Comfy-looking couch. And there's a shopping centre not too far away." She told Elena and Bonnie.

"Great. Can we go play some pool now?" Tyler looked at Matt and Stefan.

"Sure," Stefan agreed.

"I'm in." Matt nodded. "You girls want in?"

"In a bit." Elena said.

Matt passed out the cues and they did rock-paper-scissors to determine who would break while the young women gossiped. Matt got the honour, but Stefan managed to sink the 8 ball. The girls joined them on the third game. They all called it a night around 10; Matt took Elena home and Bonnie drove Stefan back to the Boarding House. After what happened at the quarry it was a nice normal finish to the night and Stefan had no issue in falling asleep or off-kilter dreams once he was there.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Stefan was reclined comfortably back on the chaise lounge in the sitting room under the windows, leisurely reading his book in the sun and periodically snacking from the small veggie platter with dip he had made. He wanted something crunchy and a finger food, but didn't want to get the grease from chips on the pages so he settled for the healthy alternative. His eyes on the page, he blindly reached for the dwindled stock of baby carrot only to have his hand irritably smacked away and his tray moved away. Stefan looked up to a find a very unimpressed vampire brother waiting beside him.

"What?" Stefan asked warily as he marked his page in the book to set aside.

"I just came back from a very interesting talk with Liz after today's Council meeting." Damon informed him.

Stefan straightened. "Did something happen? Did someone notice the discrepancy at the blood banks?"

Damon scoffed. "What do you take me for?"

Stefan rolled his eyes. "Alright. So, what is it then?"

"You and the band of Misfit Toys going on a trip for the break." He raised a challenging brow as if daring the brunette to try and deny it.

"Oh, yeah." Stefan stood, forcing the vampire back a step. "No, that's happening."

"And you didn't think to tell me of this little trip?"

"So, I'm going out of town for a few days. What's the big deal?" he picked up the veggie platter and left the sitting room, starting down the hall toward the kitchen with his brother doggedly on his heels.

"Oh, I don't know," Damon mocked sarcastically a hand flinging. "How about a little dependency you have? Or did you forget?"

"How could I forget when I've got two dispensaries walking around that won't let me forget it?" Stefan pushed in through the kitchen door somewhat irately. "It wouldn't be the first I time woke up to you looming at my bedside practically holding the glass of blood to my lips before I even woke up." He tossed the platter onto the counter.

"Maybe if you didn't throw that tantrum last month, I wouldn't have to fucking baby you into taking your bottle!" Damon told him snidely.

Stefan scoffed and turned back to his brother, leaning on the counter, his fingers curled around the lip. "That had nothing to do with the blood and everything to do with you." He corrected.

"Grow up!" Damon scoffed.

Stefan gave a humourless laugh. "I can't even sneeze without you freaking out about it any more."

"If only you were that uncomplicated."

"I'm sorry _life_ isn't that uncomplicated." Stefan pushed from the counter. "This isn't some cartoon with threat of roads suddenly ending in a cliff edge or anvils and pianos sporadically falling on people—this is the real world."

"Trust me, I'd feel a helluva lot better if a few pianos were all we had to contend with," Damon muttered.

"Unless you can give me a legitimate reason that has nothing to do with your asinine feelings then I'm going on this trip and you and Ric are staying _here_ in Mystic Falls. So?" he threw out his arms. "Is there something you should be telling me, Damon?" Stefan paused and waited appropriately, his mind involuntarily thinking about the sporadic itch between his shoulder blades, his shoulder stiffening infinitesimally in response.

"What was that?" Damon demanded instead of answering. "What face did I just see?"

"This is my face annoyed with you, Damon!" Stefan snapped. "And if you could remember, brother, it's not the blood I need, it's just the _magic_ **in** the blood. I have the Gilbert ring and I have Bonnie so there's nothing for you to concern yourself with." He brushed passed his brother. "I'm going for some air. Or do you want to spot me for leaden falling objects?" he uttered sarcastically as he shoved through the two-way door. "Or maybe you can actually trust in me enough that if I see the shadow looming I'll step aside."

The kitchen door swung to a closed stop behind him, cutting off his brother from view. He shoved his socked feet into his boots in the entrance hall and let the front door slam shut behind him. Instead of cutting across the driveway and disappearing into the wood, he turned down the winding drive and cut across the chunk of asphalt, skidded down the slide decline the opposite side of the road and disappeared into these woods instead; the last thing he wanted right now was to accidentally feel the residual magical reverberations from his time on the Other Side.

He needed distance and anonymity by way of not going off somewhere he was predicted to go to 'cool off' and the action completed by his cell phone sitting next to his book in the sitting room instead of his jeans pocket. Stefan had brought up the question of the blood to Bonnie when the witch had driven him home from the Grill the night they'd all knocked out the specifics of their trip to Doswell. As long as she kept an eye on the ring, topping off the charge of magic in it as needed, depending on his body's metabolism of the magic, as it was, everything would be fine without the daily intake of vampire blood. So, Damon didn't need to bite his head off, it was taken care of. Stefan also saw this as an opportunity for experimentation, it would be like a nicotine patch v. nicotine spray; Bonnie's magic v. vampire blood.

After over an hour of walking, the tension of frustration eking out with every step further, Stefan finally came upon the dilapidated section of the stonewall entryway to the original Salvatore Estate built back in 1800‘s. He rested a nostalgic palm on what was now barely a stack of moss-covered stones, but used to be an wall the extended across the whole front of the property adorned by a large wrought iron gate with the Salvatore family crest. He stepped through the invisible gate and into the laneway that didn't exist anymore, around the fountain that stood middle of the drive and came to a stop at the steps to the house. All of it was overgrown with decades of growth, there was nothing left of the grand house that he grew up in, that Damon burned down to cinders but he could see it in his mind’s eye clear as if he was back in 1864; where Damon and he played with the pigskin in the front drive, where they chased Katherine through the back garden. But when he opened his eyes again it was trees, bush, and growth. He sighed, it wasn't as if back then was a simpler time than now, yet at the same time, in its own way, it was. There was just Katherine, jealousy, and father to contend with, not this wild mess now but even as he was mildly nostalgic for the times his preference was here. With one last glance, he pivoted on his heels in the thick undergrowth and passed back through the remaining piece of wall, his fingertips brushing across the moss-covered stone.

When Stefan finally made it up the drive, the sun sinking below the treetops and he paused for a moment as he spotted Alaric's Tahoe parked in the driveway. It wasn't that he was unhappy that Alaric was there, the trip to Kings Dominion was planed midway through the break so they'd take their 3 days then have the weekend before it was back to school so he wanted to spend that time before and after with Ric as much as possible; it just depended on the circumstance of the teacher’s arrival.

He toed off his buckle boots in the entry hall, and paused in the parlor archway to predictably find both vampires partaking in a tumbler of bourbon. Not that he was judging. "Did you come here of your own volition or because Damon called you?" Stefan wondered.

"What did Damon do this time?" Alaric grumbled, shooting a glower at the other vampire.

Stefan chuckled. "Good answer."

"I resent that implication." Damon replied. "And I reserve my right to have 'feelings' on occasion, it's the side effect of being a big brother."

Stefan stepped down into the parlor. "Is that going to be your answer for everything now?" he asked drily. Damon just gave him a stoic stare over the lip of his tumbler as he drank his bourbon. Stefan sat close beside Alaric on the couch. "I told you that if you gave me a legitimate reason to not go, I wouldn't—but you didn't. So, on that account... I'm going on this trip, Damon. End of discussion." He took Alaric's tumbler, getting a raised brow as he drained the last swallow of bourbon in the glass.

"Alright, brother," Damon drained the rest of his own bourbon in a swallow. "I'll trust you judgement to step away from any falling overhead shadows." He grabbed the bottle of bourbon from the shelf by the neck but instead of simply refilling the tumbler, he took the whole bottle with him when he left.

Alaric looked from the empty doorway to the brunette with confusion. "Alright, now I know I really missed something."

"Just a tidbit from our earlier argument." Stefan sighed and rested his head against Alaric's shoulder and the dirty-blond wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him against his side. "He'll get over it. He's shunned me for a 52 year period once, what's 3 days on good terms?" Alaric gave a noncommittal hum. "What?" Stefan glanced up at him. "How am I supposed to _live_ and have a _life_ if I don't even step outside to experience it? I can't let my life be ruled by the mere threat of falling anvils that aren't really there—I won't." He gave a heavy exhale.

Alaric had definitely taken the news of Stefan's trip 100 times better than his brother had; he'd had the same worry about the blood as Damon had but seemed satisfied when Stefan explained it to him. He told Stefan to have fun and make memories, he was human now and this would be one of the last high school memories that he was going to have and Stefan had every intention of doing just that.

With the arm around his shoulder, Alaric cupped Stefan's throat, rising the brunette's chin with a caressing draw of his thumb. He looked into Stefan's forest green eyes, leaning close. "I love you," he murmured, his lips brushing Stefan's before he pressed their mouths together. His thumb pressed down on the teen's chin, opening him up to deepen the kiss.

Stefan moaned quietly into his mouth, palming the nape of the vampire's neck, somehow pulling him closer still. There was shifting and when the kiss finally broke to allow the human a much needed but unwanted breath, his pupils were dilated and he was left to gaze up at the vampire straddling his lap. He smiled. "Love it when you're on top." He caressed up Alaric's jean-clad thighs.

"You just love that?" Alaric teased.

"Love you overall," Stefan told him. "I love it when you get caught up in something you're passionate about. I love how you zone out when you grade work and that thing you inevitably do with your pen." His gaze flickered down to his lips. "I love how you cut the food on your plate with your left hand despite being righty, but when you prepare food you cut with your right. I love falling asleep with you at night and know you'll be there when I wake up. I love you because I want to, because I can't help myself, because I just do. Or I could just say... I love you, Ric." He squeezed Alaric's hips. "But I also love you in my lap." He pushed his hand under the hem of Alaric's polo shirt, arm snaking around, palming flesh, and pressed his hand into the small of the vampire's back, pressing him close, able to discern the feel of his semi through his jeans.

Alaric grabbed his head and pressed a kiss to his mouth. "Your trip's in 2 days. That's how long we're gonna stay in bed."

Stefan smirked, his fingers idly stroking the skin above the waist of his jeans. "I love sleeping in... with you." He chuckled at Alaric's expression to the pause.

"You can sleep..." Alaric shifted from his lap and onto his feet. His gaze was sizzling as he leisurely cruised the brunette, "When I'm done with, Mr Salvatore." He turned and left the parlor and Stefan quickly followed.

Stefan trailed behind him on the stairs. "I also appreciate this view, thank you." He smacked a cheek to prove it.

"Your welcome." If he was a bit smug with himself, it couldn't be helped.

~ **_T V D_** ~

They made an earlier start of it, on the road by 10:00 a.m.

Because there was 6 of them, they had to take 2 separate vehicles; Caroline, Tyler, and Matt in Caroline's Ford Fiesta, leaving Elena, Bonnie, and Stefan in Elena's SUV. As the Boarding House was on the way out of town, Stefan was picked up last. Alaric's car was still parked in the driveway up at the house; he'd kept his word of a bed lockdown but Stefan had no doubt of the vampire's leaving in a timely fashion once the teen was picked up.

Stefan had packed his duffle in advance but double-checked it the morning of before he'd left it in the front hall by the door before going to the kitchen for his breakfast. He was sitting at the island perched on a stool as he ate his short stack of fluffy blueberry pancakes with a moderate amount of maple syrup and cut fruit on top when his vampire shadows entered the kitchen, just in time for his parting glass of blood before he left for his trip.

Stefan was prepared for this moment; typically when Alaric was over, Stefan would take his blood; all other times it was Damon's. He had come to notice a certain underlying edge of grudging in them when it came to each other's blood in this fashion; but this was a completely different situation—Stefan was going, leaving for a few days. Choosing one over the other would be a case of unforeseen favouritism. So, he pushed the empty awaiting glass forward but not more toward either particular vampire. He also set two knives in front of the glass. "Half-and-half," he told them and returned to his plate. There was absolute silence and zero movement in front of him, he looked up. "Come on, I'm leaving soon." Still nothing. Stefan internally rolled his eyes at their stubbornness. "Or I could just leave without having any," he deadpanned and that prompted them both into movement after sidelong glances at each other. Stefan disguised his smirk around his fork.

They each took a presented knife and both cut their palms and held their bleeding fists over the waiting glass. When the glass was full they both wiped the blood from their healed hand with paper towel. Stefan gave the glass a gentle swirl just to prove a private point and drank the blood. It healed the hidden feeding mark on the inside of his thigh from his wake up of a blowjob instead of the alarm and the dirty-blond had taken the prime opportunity to wash down his warm cum with a bit of warm blood courtesy of his femoral artery.

He was rinsing his plate when he got a text from Bonnie saying there were on their way, so he finished getting ready. He said goodbye to his brother, kissed his boyfriend, took his duffle and left. The brunette was waiting at the end of the drive, his duffle on the ground at his feet. It wasn't even 10 minutes before he saw the reflection of sun gleam off the silver hood of the Fiesta down the road even before he could properly discern the hatchback. He waved as it passed, able to see a flash of Matt waving back from the front passenger seat. The black SUV wasn't far behind, already slowing its approach. Stefan jokingly stuck his thumb out like a hitchhiker the duffle thrown over his shoulder; Elena drove a little passed him in humour before pulling over onto the shoulder. Stefan good-naturedly smiled as she honked twice and he walked toward the vehicle. Elena and Bonnie called greetings as he got into the backseat. He tossed his duffle in the back behind the seat with the other bags and buckled his seatbelt as Elena pulled back onto the road and steadily caught back up to Caroline.

It was a 2 hour and a bit of change drive to their hotel in Doswell, so, with the time closing to noon, after a conference call on speaker between the 2 cars, they decided to order lunch through takeout drive thru and eat on the road so they'd be fed when they arrived and be able to check in, drop off their bags and go straight to Kings Dominion afterward.

Stefan felt a bit of nostalgia for Lexi, this used to be their thing, not just birthdays, but Fun Days, when a company rolled through the town they were in, or she'd even drag him across country for a new attraction that caught her attention. But these were new friends, a new experience, new memories—and that was what Lexi was always urging him to do. Every ride they went on, it was as a group, and every time someone's phone was up for a picture, Stefan sometimes forgot that he didn't need to turn away. Until he was just laughing with everyone else and having fun.

It was after 10 when they finally made it back to their rooms at the hotel. Of course, they'd had a little chow break when everyone was getting hungry but it wasn't a proper meal and they stopped to eat at a diner before continuing back to the hotel. Because of their joined rooms, the group just entered through the guy's room because it was closer, said goodnight and went through the joining door. The 3 of them did a round of rock-paper-scissors with the loser getting the couch. The remaining 2 did a round and the loser of that got the couch the next night, the winner got the couch on the last night. Stefan, Matt, Tyler respectively.

Stefan thought it would take a while for him to fall asleep; not because the couch (he'd found as a human he could almost drift off anywhere if he was tired enough and it was still enough) but the unfamiliar breath sounds of his room companions, the distant noises in the hallway, the sound of traffic beyond the glass balcony door, the dimness to the room when it was typically pitch black in his—yet his eyes drifted closed pretty quickly as he stared at the ceiling. It felt all too soon "Up n' at 'em, Salvatore!" was hollered and he bolted upright, his eyes snapping open only to get whapped in the face with a pillow. "Shit!" was uttered and he turned to see Matt and Tyler a few feet away next to each other, Tyler attempting to inconspicuously shoo a pillow out of sight under the bed behind him with a barefoot

Tyler cleared his throat. "Alright, dude?"

He eyed them stoically for a moment, making the pair squirm. "I get first turn in the bathroom," Stefan informed them. Being awoken by being shouted at or hit in the face with something was something he'd become accustomed to with Damon as a big brother and Lexi as a best friend.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course, man." Matt agreed. He smacked Tyler on the chest with the back of his hand, uttering something, distracting them both from noticing that as Stefan stood, his fingers curled around the edge of his pillow's case. They were completely unprepared for the left-hand swing; the pillow struck Tyler in the side of his head and continued on to strike Matt in the face.

They were frozen, flabbergasted, completely blindsided. They only ever hung out with the brunette in a group setting, always with the girls; his brief stint on football team was shadowed with hatred (which they had all thankfully resolved), but they'd never interacted with Stefan like this, just the guys even if the girls were in the next room over. They'd always thought him reserved, too 'mature' to join in their silly games while they'd grown up horsing around with each other.

Stefan raised a single brow at them as they gaped at him for a brief moment, before they shared a glance. Matt gave a single shouldered shrug in response to his friend's silent query and it was like the flag being dropped and all 3 jumped into action. Stefan did a sweeping swing, but Tyler had already dropped down for his pillow under the bed and Matt dived onto his bed for his own, and the pillow hit nothing but air. He may have been 162 but Stefan couldn't help but get caught up in it; he didn't having to worry about his strength or getting excited about the jumping heart rates. He could let go and not worry. At some point the pillows disappeared and it became roughhousing; they were all piled on top of each other when an authoritative voice cleared their throat and the boys froze, slowly looking up.

Caroline stood in the doorway of their adjoining door wearing a halter, her bikini top peaking through and a pair of cut-offs showing her long legs off. Her arms were crossed and her blue gaze was keen as she took in their various states of dress; Stefan in a wife beater and sleep pants, Matt in a grey cotton tee and boxers, Tyler bare chested and in black shorts. She noted the flush of exertion on their faces, the gleam of sweat; it was kinda hot but no way was she going to say so. Instead, her brow quirked a little condescendingly and she said, "This is what all the ruckus is? Aren't we all a little grown up to be rolling around on the floor? Not very appealing."

But Tyler grinned at her, all teeth. "Wipe the drool from your chin, Care, and I'll believe you."

She just rolled her eyes. "We'll see you downstairs for breakfast. If you're late, we'll leave for the park without you." After a casual glance she shut the door behind her.

They untangled themselves and Stefan quickly claimed the bathroom first before the others could get any ideas. When all were ready, they were all in swim trunks. Today they were spending their day in Kings Dominion: Soak City, a section of the park dedicated to all the water attractions.

"Didn't you bring flip-flops?" Matt asked as they walked down the hall to the elevator; both he and Tyler were wearing a pair but Stefan had on his buckle boots.

Stefan shrugged. "Never wore them before."

"Huh."

They paused in the entrance to the dinning area in search of the girls' table, Tyler spotted them first and lead the charge to their table. "You guys order yet? I'm starving." He plonked down in a free chair.

"As a matter of fact we did," Caroline said primly. "We weren’t sure exactly how long you were going to fool around for."

"Maybe _you_ need to fool around a bit, Caroline." Tyler suggested with a wink. "Loosen you up a bit."

"Hey, man, easy." Matt said.

"Wow, Stefan, I don't think I've ever seen you in shorts before." Bonnie commented, ignoring the mini squabble. "Nice calves."

"You saw my legs last week," Stefan reminded her. "Why only the compliment now?"

"It wasn't your legs I was looking at."

"Bonnie!" Elena sputtered into her orange juice. She elbowed the witch beside her.

"What?" Bonnie shrugged. "You were, too." She added to her friend's embarrassment.

Stefan cleared his throat. "So, did you have a good night's sleep?"

"Us? What about you?" Elena asked. "Who slept on the couch?"

"We did rock-paper-scissors. I got first crack at it. It actually wasn't bad," he admitted. "Slept pretty good until, well..." he sent a dry look across the table at his roommates.

Matt held up his hands in defence. "Hey, man, I wasn't the one holding the pillow." He threw a thumb over to Tyler next to him.

"Dude!" Tyler protested. "You practically dared me to. Listen, Stefan, it's all just a friendly ribbing between guys, huh?"

Stefan chuckled quietly. "Don't worry, there's still plenty of time," he murmured ominously. The pair shared albeit nervous look and the girls shared amused ones.

When the girls' breakfast was served, the boys put in their orders and soon enough everyone was eating. When they finished, they headed through the lobby and towards the parking lot.

"I'll be back," Matt muttered and veered off from the group. Their vehicle grouping was similar to before.

"Where'd Matt go?" Bonnie wondered.

"Oh, here he is." Elena pointed through the windshield to the blond figure jogging through the lot to their cars. They were a little surprised when he jumped in the back with Stefan instead of Caroline's Fiesta.

"Hey, guys. Here, Stefan. I saw these in the Gift Shop on the way to breakfast, thought you could use them." Matt said, holding out a pair of flip-flops. "Size 11, right?"

"Thank you, Matt." Stefan accepted them. "I didn't even think of that."

"No problem, man." He buckled his seatbelt and Elena took that as signal enough to pullout, Caroline following after.

It was a 20 minute drive to the park, took 5 minutes to park before they were flashing their passes and in Soak City. It was a relief to slip off the flip-flips; the rubber thong between his toes was rubbing a blister onto his big toe. They did the Zoom Flume first as a group, breaking the ice before they soon splintered off into twos or threes to different attractions, sometimes meeting up at the same ride. They all met up for lunch by the gift shop and food court, claiming a free cabana, and went a rotation on the Lazy Rider to calm down and let their stomachs settle before breaking off again.

It was simple fun, Stefan didn't have to think or worry about anything, just have fun. It was a spit-shiny concept to him, he just didn't _get to have fun_ , but he refused to over think it. He knew turning a blind eye would never fix anything, the issue were still there just festering unchecked, but he'd take these sprinkled moments until he was forced back into the reality of the world outside the amusement park. He was right though, it was just a matter of time.

It was as he was going down the Thunder Falls with Bonnie between his legs on their shared inner tube, laughing and whooping as they went through sharp turns, closed tubes, and sudden plunges when that itch felt like an unexpected bolt between his shoulder blades. His entire body involuntarily tensed up, his hold tightening on Bonnie for a long minute on the straight open shot in the last leg of the slide before they would be shot out into the splash pool; enveloping her body as if he could shield her from whatever unknown entity it was. His head did a full sweep, left to right, his keen green gaze darting from stranger to stranger's face as his heart thumped in his chest, yet it was just families with kids and teenagers.

Bonnie tilted her head back to look at him, "Stef?" her hand gripped his knee and there was an explosion of water as they shot out the end of the slide and into the water. Stefan broke the surface, giving a little cough as he cleared the water from his eyes, automatically searching for the source of the _itch_. Bonnie coughed behind but it was only when she touched his shoulder that he jolted around and back to the immediate present.

"Stefan, you okay?" she questioned, her eyes darting around his face in concern. "What happened? Were you scared?" she wondered gently.

He stared at her for a moment, in a sense he had been, hadn't he? "We should probably get out before the next people down plough right through us." He suggested instead of answering.

"Right."

They swam to the edge of the pool and they pulled themselves up and out onto the ledge, dripping. His shoulders flexed back. The feeling was still there and he had to resist the urge to reach back and check if something was actually there when he knew it was just in his head. But he still couldn't help but glance around.

"Hey," Bonnie took a gentle hold of his wrist and pulled him along from the side of the pool to an empty bench not far off after quickly grabbing their sandals from the cubby at the bottom of the stair to the slide. "Come on, sit." She pushed him into the yellow-painted metal bench, sitting dripping next to him angled toward him on his left side. "What's going on? Are you feeling okay?" she took his left-hand between her own and with a flickered glance around to make sure no one was paying them any attention, she focused in on the Gilbert ring. She could feel her inert magic just resting there, idly waiting to be absorbed. "The ring's doing okay," she looked up at him but didn't let go of his hand. "What happened out there? One second you were having fun and laughing and it was like as soon as we came out of the tunnel you went rigid, I could feel your heart pounding through your chest into my back."

Stefan licked his lips. "I don't know what to tell you, Bonnie. I guess it was just the adrenalin or something."

She shook her head after a moment. "Uh-uh. That's not gonna cut it. What's really up?"

He looked at her for a moment, unsure if that was just her or a bit of witch intuition. He sighed, leaning forward with his elbow on his knees, his chin resting on clasped hand and stared out into the passing crowd. "This is supposed to be a break from Mystic Falls and everything supernatural--" he cut off as he felt her soft hand rub between his naked shoulder blades exactly where the _itch_ was (and how he wished it was an actual literal itch that could be scratched, but the didn't appear to be the case) and he looked over at her sharply, but her gaze was unfocused. "Bonnie." He said firmly, cupping her cheek.

"Huh?" she blinked back into awareness.

"You alright? You drifted out for a minute there."

"What?" she gave her head a little shake. "Yeah, sorry. I don't know what that was." Her fingers drummed unconsciously on his back. "You were saying--?"

"I'm gonna go and find the guys," he said, standing up suddenly and leaving her empty handed. Matt and Tyler were normality, they were safe. "I'll see you later, Bonnie."

"Wait. Stefan!" she stood but he'd already disappeared into the crowd.

Stefan headed toward Hurricane Heights, it was a combination of several different chambers and it was the last place he'd seen the guys. There was a flash of blond in his peripheral and he turned his head, his sharp gaze latching onto a spiked head of blond hair disappearing off in the crowd. He knew it wasn't Matt, as _familiar_ as the man seemed, he wasn't even dressed in swimwear, yet for whatever inexplicable reason, Stefan turned off his original course to follow after.

Intent on keeping track of the disappearing man, he didn't put much thought into where he was going ( _lead_ he would realize too late); the number of people dwindling, the sounds of the park somewhat muted as he passed through 'staff only' zones. He came to a stop as he found himself facing a dead-end barricade, he let out a sharp breath as he realized his folly.

" _Hello, Stefan_."

Before he could even fully comprehend whose voice those words belonged to, let alone react effectively, there was a blur of movement and a flare of pain before darkness.

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Uh-oh, who will this blond, no-doubt a vampire, be? I bet I know who you all are guessing and even hoping for, but you'll just have to wait for the next chapter and I'm sure it'll be the last person you were expecting! :)  
>  P.S ** _\- Kings Dominion is a real place in Doswell, Virginia, and what I have written will not be an accurate representation of the park. Obviously the events in this story have not taken place there either LOL.  
>  I've only been on one waterslide before when I was a kid, visiting my Nanny and Grampa over the summer in Owen Sound and nearly drowned. That's my one experience, so..._


	22. CHAPTER 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past rears its fanged head, a hungry, bloody maw poised to devour the happy present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Includes/Spoilers/WARNING** : violence, Stefan Whump, compulsion, magic, character death, self-harm

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

He was uncomfortable, that was the first unthreaded thought that rose up in the back of Stefan's mind even as there was a sharp pressure on the side of his neck that was tugging him back to consciousness. His pulse jumped and the pressure released, leaving a familiar enough burning ache in its wake, too familiar, too reminiscent. He could sense the ominous presence of another, it reignited the _itch_ between his shoulder blades and that was reason enough for his eyes to flicker open before he was quite ready.

His eyes took a second to focus clearly on the looming figure crouched in front of him in the dim lighting; a highlight of blond hair, the sharp narrow frame of his face, his blue-eyes screened in bloodied sclera, the dark, pulsing, tendril veins temporarily tattooing the skin under his eyes, the point of two fangs revealed through the twisted sneer of lips, blood at the corner of his mouth— _my blood,_ Stefan realized, his hand snapping up to the burning feeding mark on the right side of his neck even as he flinched backward from the vampire. His already pounding head knocked off the metal shelving behind him from his position on the dusty concrete floor. The dried blood that caked the side of his face coincided with the already present pain; the strike following _his_ voice.

The vampire's face settled into its more human counterpoint as he wiped the blood away from the corner of his mouth with a thumb and slowly rubbed his fingers together. "Apologies, I got hungry waiting for you to wake up after smelling your blood for the past half-hour." He sighed. "Distasteful, I know, but unfortunately needed in my current lot in, heh, life."

"You're supposed to be dead," Stefan finally managed to uttered, his gaze glued to the man. He could feel the thin stream of blood running from under his hand pressed to the side, down his bare chest. He was clad in nothing but his swim trunks and his left flip-flop; the right, the one that had been giving him the blister on his toe, must have fallen off in the transportation of his unconscious body.

The blond's gaze snapped up back to Stefan's face from where they had been fixated on the crawling tendril of blood. "Can't you see that I am? You just saw my face, right? Big giveaway of the new vampiric status quo." He gestured at his face. "What, your dear big brother Damon didn't tell you?" he mocked. Stefan stared back and he chuckled, "Aw, I'm not sure who should be more hurt by that, you or me?"

Stefan's expression tightened. Oh, yeah. When he got out of here, he and Damon were definitely going to have a talk. Stefan might even punctuate a few choice words with a stake or three because crouched in front of him in what appeared be some sort of storage shack in the park, was none other than an undead and clearly revengeful John Gilbert. He had always concluded that Damon had killed the man and buried the body, but this was much, much worse.

Stefan needed to get out of here and away, but before he could do that he needed to take care of John first. He was extremely outweighed right now. John had all the physical power and while he was devious, something amplified by his vampirism, Stefan could be cunning, too. Being too clever lead to cockiness and that over-confidence could be subtly manipulated with the right tact and turned back around against the vampire and to Stefan's own advantage; some stepping stones to this would be John's anger, need for retribution, and his protectiveness of Elena. One other prime key, a weakness John had already admitted to him—bloodlust—it was a big force of distraction for a bampi like John, especially when his anger was up.

Keeping a careful eye on the vampire, Stefan shifted, slowly pushing up from his bruised elbow to sit up. John didn't so much as tense in reactive response to the action, just tracked him with his eyes and Stefan realized it was just the same as when the man had been human. Even in the face of Stefan's anger and superior strength of vampirism, John never flinched. Why would he think now would be any different when their rolls were reversed? Stefan didn't even have the safety net of the Gilbert ring to bring him back to life; Bonnie had explained to him that it only worked on humans who were killed by supernatural creatures. While he may have been human, he was also a doppelganger, a supernatural creature, so even if he'd never became a vampire and returned to his living state and the Gilbert ring retained its original function... if John, _when_ John decided to kill him, he was really going to stay that way this time.

But the threat of death never scared Stefan off before, sometimes it was like they were just playing a game of tag-death. The regular version where he got sent to the Other Side; or a thousand temporary deaths in a game of freeze tag. There was so much he could say here, but he had to be smart without seeming calculating so he went with the obvious. _Why._ But not just any 'why'. Stefan looked at John and asked: "Why now?" it gave a direction to the conversation, but it was vague enough to be open to personal interpretation.

"Do you know how long it took for me to find a witch to make me this godforsaken thing a daylight ring?" John questioned rhetorically, holding up his right hand and in the place where his Gilbert ring used to be now lay a ring with a lapis lazuli stone set in it. "For months I became a true creature of the night, never allowed in the daylight, hardly able to sleep for the hunger, all the heartbeats taunting beyond the paper-thin walls of the motels I was forced to stay in," his gaze went a little distant as he was pulled back into the past by just the words, swallowing as his mouth involuntarily filled with saliva at the _mere_ thought-memory of heartbeats; that was definitely something Stefan didn't miss. His eyes focused on Stefan's face again, shoulders marginally straightening back, "It was truly an experience, it changes a man, Stefan. A slow, torturous experience, not something you would understand. From all that I've read in my ancestors' journals... you went from zero-to-monster like that!" John's fingers snapped viciously in front of Stefan's face with vamp-speed making him flinch to the vampire's mild amusement. "Thanks to Katherine and the magic of her Bennett witch, you had daylight rings from the start, no daylight to halt your frenzied feedings, nothing to hold you back—not the sun, not your humanity. Just the Ripper."

John was right, of course. As soon as he realized that he had killed his own father, was the monster he had been trying to kill in the first place, Stefan turned off his humanity and his monstrous journey continued bloody-step by blood-step from there. He terrorized his own hometown without prejudice, and the things he had done to the Council members and their families at the dinner party... he was never held back by the long burning hours of the blazing Virginia sun, there wasn't an ounce of mercy in him to give him pause or detour from his aim of helpless revenge and the need to sate his endless hunger.

"I meant," Stefan finally managed to interject through the hard lump in his throat; his jaw gave a minute tick as he saw the _satisfaction_ in John's blue eyes at the reaction he garnered from the brunette at his words. Sometimes, too often, John hit the nail right on the head into his heart and Stefan had an unnerving paranoia that the man had somehow gotten a hold of any one of his journals even though he knew John couldn't have. It was all just some sadistic game. Just as Stefan was trying to manipulate him, John was trying to unravel him, as if the fact of him having been a vampire and out there all these months wasn't trying to snowball on him, not to mention the unexpected kidnapping. But Stefan needed to focus, he needed to retain control because the last time he'd been kidnapped he'd had snapped and it lead to both him and Ric being killed; there were 5 potential targets out there in the water park right now, oblivious. "Why _now_? Why not when you swiped me that day with your truck on the side of the road, why you didn't kill me then? Why didn't you pull your truck over and put a stake in my heart? No one would ever have known, you could have disappeared me without _anyone_ knowing." Of course he knew, it was just a lead-in. "I would have been off the board, no longer a threat. Damon never would have known, after everything that happened, he would have just thought I'd left town and we'd see each other again in a few decades. You would have been clear."

John's eyes narrowed like he knew what Stefan was trying to do, but his clenched jaw gave away his resentment at the reminder of being under Katherine's thumb. "You needed to be alive for the plan to work."

"And that was just something I never understood," Stefan admitted. "You're a smart man, John, so how could you ever believe that Katherine would leave once you handed me over? You should have believed Lucy when she said it wasn't that simple." He used his accusing words and tone of condescension to pull the vampire's focus, ignite his anger so he didn't catch on when Stefan flexed his fingers slightly against the feeding mark on his neck, surreptitiously reigniting the petered bleeding from the wound. New blood dribbled over the old tracks down his chest. "Katherine would never have come out of hiding and risk the wrong people finding out that she was never burned alive in Fell's Church in 1864 just for _me_. No, she most definitely had something else more devious planned, though what that was, we'll never know. What I do know, is that whatever deal you made with her for Elena's safety would have been null the minute she got what she really wanted. Katherine could only ever be jealous of Elena because Elena had everything that she never could and a jealous Katherine is a spiteful Katherine."

"You're right, I never did believe I could trust Katherine fully." John conceded freely. "Who's to say I hadn't been using her as much as she was using me?"

Stefan scoffed. "That's bullshit, John. No one manipulates Katherine, she only ever had you believe that you were manipulating her. She was too self-serving, too much of a survivor to put trust enough in someone for them to put a stake in her back. Oh, I'm not saying you're the only one, trust me, we've all been those fools at one point in our relationship with her. When I met her, I was entranced by her beauty, her grace, her coy whit, the sound of her laugh... I was a lonely teenager with ridiculous romantic notions who didn't know any better. But you, you knew exactly what she was yet you got into bed with her anyway—and to what end, John. What end?"

"I did what I did to protect Elena."

"Stop using her as your excuse!" Stefan shouted. "You're just a coward, too scared to actually step up when she needed it. Instead, you became just another one of Katherine's bitches." John roughly grabbed him under the chin and Stefan grabbed his wrist with his bloodied hand, smearing it with wet blood, the other his forearm. He continued despite the restricting pressure, his voice strained, "How many opportunities did you have to kill her? How many time could you have taken Katherine out of the picture and truly saved Elena from heartache and trouble down her future--"

"It's so easy for you to preach," John interrupted, his fingers flexing against his throat; Stefan grimaced as he dug his thumb into the bite wound and he felt a new trail of warmth start down his skin. "But as far as I was concerned—and still am—you are the biggest threat to Elena there is."

Stefan eyes stung as they watered. "If I had decided not to come home, Elena would not be alive. I know I've hurt her, I know I've brought trouble back with me when I came back to Mystic Falls. I just wanted to see my family. I didn't even know Elena existed until I pulled her out of the water and I knew I should have left then, but I had to know her, I couldn't stop myself, I fell in l--"

"Now who's the one that's making excuses?" John sneered. "You Salvatores are such the self-righteous type, always know best, better than everyone else despite you being the worst of us all. I've never been a violent man, Stefan, I was smarter than that. Sure, beating someone down would feel powerful for a moment until they just got back up again, but I always preferred the verbal beat down, the effect is more cerebral. Right now though, I'm going to lower my standards." John pulled Stefan's left leg straight out on the concrete in front of him.

"What are you doing?" Stefan demanded, trying to draw his leg back up but John put a strong hand on his thigh, preventing the action.

"Taking you down a leg."

Stefan struggled but John's hand around his throat tightened, cutting off his airway and pinning him back against the metal shelf—and with his gaze locked into Stefan's, pumped his hand once powerfully down against his leg.

"Ahh!" Stefan cried out sharply, the sound somehow managing to squeeze out his throat as John broke his femur. He heard it, like a glow stick snapping and the white hot pain radiated from there up and across into his hip, through his pelvis and into the small of his back. Black spots danced in his vision, pock marking John's pale face as his fingernails dug into his arm; he wasn't sure if it was from the lack of oxygen or the pain. The femur was the strongest bone in the human body and John had crushed it like a brittle glass test tube.

John's hand relented around his throat just enough for him to wheezily breathe through what felt like a straw, allowing the black spots to fade and not let him pass out. His face was flushed with pain and beaded in sweat.

"Are you listening now, Stefan?" John gave his head a little jostle and Stefan forced his pain-filled gaze to focus on the vampire's face. He could feel pins and needles down his lower leg. "I don't care about your origin story. The sob story you tell yourself and others to justify all the horrors you committed in the extra 145 years you suckered out of life. You Salvatores ruined my life." John's hand was still clenched around his thigh and when he released the grip it was like a fresh surge of pain came through and Stefan tried to stifle the whimper with his pursed lips, just a white, bloodless line as the only thing that seemed to keep him from slumping over was John's hand around his throat. "Your brother turned me into this monster; he stole my ring, feed me his blood, ran me through with an _umbrella_ then buried me in a hole!" he gritted his teeth, his vamp-face a vicious shadow overlaying his expression. "It was daylight when I woke up. I was stuck in that hole, buried, for 18 hours, starving and losing my mind, no way to end it. I went into a bloodlust and as soon the sun disappeared behind the horizon..." he shook his head. "I drained my neighbours, and even tried their dog, I was that desperate but just ended up killing it when I attacked its owners. I never killed a human before, but I was just so fucking hungry and I needed their hearts to shut up, it was driving me insane and then I just couldn't help myself. It tasted so good and I was so cold, it warmed my belly. But then the silence set in and I realized what I did, but by then it was too late, I couldn't take it back. So I buried their bodies in the wood out back, left Mystic Falls—and I planned. One of the first motels that I stayed in, it was a popular place for prostitutes to bring their johns; I tried to resist, I _did_ , until one of the john's started to beat his girl and the smell of her blood was so powerful... I drained them _both_. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

Stefan had every idea, even more so than John.

Stefan never knew that Katherine had been feeding him her blood before she compelled the event away; John must have been very aware when Damon force-fed him his blood. Stefan had never even considered the fact that he and Damon could be killed in their rescue of Katherine; John was smart enough to look over his shoulder and sleep with one eye open the moment he drove passed the Mystic Falls 'Welcome' sign, there could simply have been no other conclusion in his death when Damon found out about his compliance in Stefan's kidnapping. For Stefan, the existence of vampires had only been the drunken ramblings of his father; John had grown up knowing the truth of vampires. John had every idea of what he had been walking into when he got involved with Katherine, what he'd sent Isobel walking into with Damon. Stefan had just been a stupid, recently heartbroken, naive, love struck, romantic fool with the fool's errand of rescuing the girl of his (compelled) dreams who was never in need of liberation (no, that had been her rescuers). And don't even ask him about the hunger, the feeding, the killing.

John finally released his throat and Stefan quickly put his hand out to brace himself so he didn't completely topple over, grimacing as it sent a shock through him, jolting his leg. John stared at his bloody hand like he wanted to lick it clean and was trying to resist the urge, the need; the veins, too, trying to engorge around his eyes, no doubt he was feeling the ache of his fangs wanting to push through his gums but he was fighting through, chest still as he stopped breathing.

Stefan tried to take calm, deep breaths, trying to tamp down the pain and at the same time stay completely still; each and every little involuntary shift or spasm sending sharp pain through his leg. His chances of killing John were now practically nil, he was immobile, he was in too much pain and too slow because of that pain to have a chance even if he had a wooden stake handy right now. He could only think to buy himself time... for something. "I thought you said you knew all about the original Salvatore brothers?" he finally said, his voice slightly breathless. "About me."

"Ah, but I do, Stefan." He clenched his bloodied hand and looked up. "I know all I need to about _this_ version of you."

"I know," he said, "You've been following me for nearly 2 weeks now."

John gave him a smile, it was just a subtle curve of his lips but it changed the entire meaning behind the gesture. It was secretive, superior, like he knew something that Stefan didn't just yet and wasn't going to when he did figure it out. It made Stefan uneasy and he didn't like it and he was sure John knew it, no matter how stoic his outward expression and posture were, his heart's betrayal was harder to stifle to a vampire's senses.

"You may not be dating her anymore, but that makes you no less of a threat to her. Elena might hate me, despise me for what I have to do, but I will always love her and do what I have to, to make sure that she is safe. And that means making sure you, your brother, the teacher, and the little Bennett witch stay out of it for good."

"You're not going to touch them!" Stefan growled furiously, jerking forward only to stop short of the vampire as white sharpness branded his nerves and he bit through his lip to snuff out the cry. His eyes pricking with pained tears.

John gave a short laugh. "And what are _you_ going to do about it? Never mind your femur, you don't even have the Ripper of Monterey to turn to anymore. I know all about this... **new you**. Elena told me all about you, Stefan; whatever I asked, she was so fast to tell me it was like she couldn't wait to get it off her chest."

"You compelled her." He spat through his teeth in disgust, left hand pressed high on his thigh as his heart pumped, adrenaline numbing the pain temporarily.

"It was a necessary evil." John sighed. "I didn't want to, but I didn't have a choice. For whatever reason she's always been loyal to you, not that you deserve it. Her heart is just too good."

"She was raised by good people, John. You should be proud of the young woman that she's become, not trying to tear it apart by killing people she loves." His supporting hand shifted, his fingers grasping around the first thing they found on the ground ledge of the metal shelf.

"You don't get to tell me how to feel about her!" John growled, but before he could make any physical response, Stefan packed his pain into a corner and lunge forward, tackling the unexpecting vampire back onto the concrete.

The cry through gritted teeth was more of pain than it was of war, and even as his vision whited out for a split second to the hard jolt and weight on his leg, Stefan's body automatically followed through, his arm swinging down. It was a small, manual air pump, like for a bike tire or to even inflate the inner tubes—uselessly made of aluminium—but he managed to get the vampire's forehead with the sharp corner of the base before John managed to grab ahold of him. He grunted as he was thrown onto his back, his leg jarring, the man a weight on his chest even as a hand was tightened painfully around his already abused throat. "She was in this life the minute she was born," Stefan managed to wheeze through his cinched throat, half blind from the pain and the other from the blood dripping from the vampire. "Whether I ever came into it or not. At least I was there when she needed me, unlike you, who ran away from his responsibility of being her _father_. You think she hates you now for the things you've done? How do you think they'll compare when you start killing the people she loves, her _real_ family?"

His words were ignored and only served to fuel the vampire's anger. "I could kill you now and who would know?" John mocked him, vamp-face in full force, blood coating the side of his face, the jagged wound already healed. "Your friends are out there right now having fun, not a care in the world, not a care for you. They have no idea that a minute from now I could snuff you out and make sure Bonnie Bennett finds nothing left of you to bring back again. Your brother and the teacher are back in Mystic Falls, too far away to save you. Why do you think I waited, forced to watch you _live_ in the sun while I was forced into the shadows."

It was hard not to let his words have an affect, but with the plethora of pains, lack of oxygen, the sharp nausea in his stomach, his hammering head... Stefan's defences just weren't up to par and no matter how much things had changed for him the past year, there was that whispered insecurity inside him in Katherine's voice that agreed with what John was saying. _'My Rippah'_ —that was the tone of someone who wanted him, who accepted the worst part of him, particularly the worst part of him. _No_ , he shook his head ineffectually in John's hold, his nails digging weakly into his arms.

"But death is not punishment enough for the likes of your brand of monster," John hissed at him. "You don't deserve to get off that easily. Some power out there saw it fit to make you human again and put you back into my path, my plans. You're **human** now," he cooed, "You can be **compelled**."

Stefan reacted instinctually as the words penetrated the fog, a futile struggle in John's hold until his head was forced still by a hand pressed to his forehead as well as the one squeezed around his throat. John's hard-heeled shoe knocked purposefully against his injured thigh like spurring on a horse; Stefan yelped, his body trying to arch away from the sharp, radiating pain but was trapped beneath the vampire. John caught his gaze, his pupils expanding and Stefan was caught by their magnetic pull, his mental resistance weak and clouded with pain. Stefan stilled beneath the vampire, unblinking and allowed himself to be caught and pulled in, feeling the calmness as if staring into the deep depths of the ocean through the windows of John's blue eyes. Everything around him seemed to fade to the background; the inside of the shed, the cold concrete against his bare skin, the ocean just fuzzed out the pain and let him think clearly.

The only people who knew he couldn't be compelled were Damon and Alaric; this big tidbit coming to light after Damon tried to compel him in the bath to move on, to not want to become a vampire again, to _live._ Stefan wished it could have been that easy, all of his issues solved in the time it took to blink his eyes and come out of it; but he had worked hard to get to this emotionally sound point in his life, to accept his new reality and it had all the more positive impact on him for it. This big tidbit was a piece of information that Elena didn't have, a piece that she would not have been about to give John even under compulsion and Stefan needed to use this to his advantage, play along with John's compulsion, wait for that prime opportunity to slide into place—and then strike.

He ignored that dark wriggles of doubt in the back of his brain, the ones that said: Damon had been the only one who had tried to compel him before, but that had been early days in his second round of human life, before he starting drinking vampire blood on the daily, filling that hungry empty space inside of him. What if it was that magic sucking black hole that consumed the magic of the mind compulsion before it could take effect, rendering the compulsion ineffectual? This would be a hell of a way to discover that he was susceptible but he shoved those fears down. No doubt whatever John had planned for him to do, it was going to be terrible, designed to make him suffer so he needed to be ready.

"There you go." John allowed himself a smirk. "I'm going to fix you up and clean you up, Stefan, don't worry. I need you presentable and mobile for what you're going to do for me next. And then..."

There was still that magnetic pull keeping him tethered and Stefan hoped that was a good sign. It wasn't as strong as Damon's but Damon had unabashedly been using the ability for the past 145 years, growing his power exponentially over the decades and coming up on his 146 vampire-birthday this September; John was as old as Alaric was, just shy of 4 months, he was like a toddler learning to walk, blundering.

"You are going to kill Bonnie Bennett." Stefan stared in shock, that was the only thing that kept him from giving himself away. He could feel the tendrils of compulsion brush against his subconscious, trying to integrate, but they slipped off like there was a barrier of oil. Stefan barely stopped himself from releasing a sob of relief; he'd already gotten his brother, boyfriend, and best-friend killed, 2 out of 3 had come back, he wasn't sure he if could keep that record going. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Stefan managed to answer in a robotic voice.

"Good. I'm going to give you some blood, heal your leg and then you're going to go to the sink by the wall and wash all the blood off. Open up." John told him, lifting the hand pressed against his forehead and sunk his fangs into the edge of his palm.

Stefan forced himself to open his mouth despite everything inside of him wanting to purse his lips tightly and turn his head away. He did **not** want John Gilbert's blood inside of him—but he knew he needed it. The only way he would have a chance at killing John would be if his leg was healed. John clenched his fist over Stefan's open mouth, managed to dribble some blood into it before the wound healed itself. John released his throat and sat back on his chest for a moment, watching as the forming bruises on Stefan's throat faded, the feeding mark on his neck disappeared, the laceration on his temple healed. He nodded to himself and finally rose to his feet fluidly.

Stefan sat up after a moment; all the surface pains and aches were gone like his pounding head and the burning ache from the bite, but even before he climbed to his feet he knew all was not healed and well. He grimaced as he put his weight on his left leg; the white-hot pain was gone but there was still a sharp pain the bone like continuing to walk with a shard of glass in his foot. John hadn't given him enough blood to heal the crushed bone properly, there were probably loose shards poking things they shouldn't, fractures still in his femur, but it wasn't like he could turn to John and ask for more blood.

No doubt the vampire saw the slight catch in his step as he walked over to the industrial sink against the far wall with the tall curved faucet; though his eyes stared ahead, he was tactfully observing his surroundings for anything wooden he might be able to use. He turned on both taps, water sprayed forcefully from the faucet into the deep basin. He splashed water on his face. There was a loose roll of cheep brown paper towel sitting on the ledge and he took a strip, wetting it before he scrubbed at the blood on his face, neck, and down his chest and arms. There was a plunger by the sink with a wooden handle. He didn't want to bring Bonnie into this, but if he attacked now and failed, John would know he was faking it and kill him. He couldn't warn the others or keep them safe if he was dead. It was with silent regret that he turned off the taps and turned back toward John, his expression a blank quality.

"You're going to go find Bonnie Bennett, get her alone and kill her." John compelled him. "I'll be watching. No matter the outcome today, one or both of you will die in this park. I'll finally finish what I started on the side of that road. You should have took my warnings seriously, Stefan."

"Okay." Stefan walked passed him towards the door.

"Ah, before you go, Stefan." Stefan paused and turned. "Don't forget this." John tossed his missing flip-flop on the ground in front of him.

Without replying, Stefan slipped his foot into rubber thong and stepped out the door. He took his first breath of temporary 'freedom', out of John's sight for the moment as he closed the shed door behind him. Against his better judgment, he paused long enough to pull up his trunk's leg to reveal a black-cherry colour forming on his thigh. He gingerly brushed his fingers over the mark before he clenched his hand into a fist, releasing a quiet, shuddering breath; that was not just some bruising left behind from lack of vampire blood.

Even if Stefan hadn't studied for his medical degree at Harvard U. in the 1970's, it was obvious this was not good. His best guess without being able to see an x-ray of his bone, by John's method, would be a Type II, a comminuted fracture; the bone crushed into a number of pieces. And the bruise, that had to be internal bleeding; a bone fragment must have nicked some blood vessels, and the continued pins and needles down into his lower leg could only mean compromised nerves. The vampire blood must have healed _something_ otherwise he wouldn't be able to stand, let alone _walk_ on it even if it was painful. Hopefully it gave him time to kill John before collapsing under him, so he took a precious moment to pinpoint his location; the nearest ride that he could distinguish was FreeStylin' so he started off in that direction.

His left hand was in his trunks pocket, laid gently flat against his thigh. He knew physically it offered no support or even comfort, but it helped him feel calm and somehow more in control of the situation that he severely lacked control of. He didn't have his cell phone and it would take a bit to find Bonnie so he would use that to try and come up with a plan. His shoulders were stiff, the skin between his shoulder blades taut like there was a bull's eyes painted there but it was Bonnie that was in the crosshairs, utterly oblivious to the lurking danger. If Stefan were the dramatic type, he would say he could practically hear the repetitive two-cord theme to Jaws; every passing person a lucky beach goer who just missed the brush of a fin under their bare, kicking feet as he searched for that one bleeding target.

"Stefan, thank god." Only, it turned out that she found him instead. "I've been looking for you everywhere!" Bonnie huffed with relief, speed-walking towards him. Stefan stopped with dread and let her catch up to him. "Where the hell have you been?" she demanded. "I was this close to doing a locator spell, it was like you disappeared off the face of the earth." She grasped his arm above the elbow with worry and she stilled for an instant, her expression going blank before her lips pursed tightly as she looked at him.

"Bonnie, I--" he started but she interrupted.

"Come on," she let go of his arm and grabbed his hand instead, pulling him along. "You can make it up to me by going on the Aqua Blast with me." She dragged him into the line.

Sweat was beaded on his upper lip. "Bon, I need to talk to you." He subtly shifted his weight onto his right leg.

"After." She said determinedly, squeezing his hand a little too tight.

"Promise?" he questioned, trying not to dart his gaze around; John was somewhere watching, the brunette could feel that blazing itch between his shoulder blades.

She looked up at him and nodded, a _knowing_ look in her eyes. "I do."

"It's important." He whispered, squeezing her hand tightly back. Thankfully, the line up Hurricane Heights to the Aqua Blast slide was a short one. Stefan sat on the inner tube with a grimace as he was forced to bend his leg, before Bonnie sat between his legs and leaned back against his chest. They pushed off into the closed chamber. All too soon they shot out of the darkened slide and into the waiting splash pool at the bottom of Hurricane Heights.

"What did you want to talk about?" Bonnie asked after they climbed out of the water and were left dripping off to the side. They quickly dried off with the waiting towels.

"When I ran off earlier... but I thinks it's better if we talk somewhere a little more private and less crowded." Stefan said.

"Okay."

Stefan took her hand and they walked away from the splash pool. His hand hold transformed into a palm at the small of her bare back, guiding her, inching her ahead of him as he lead them back toward FreeStylin', back towards the barren staff only area with the shed beyond the main avenues of the water park.

"Stefan," she wondered, looking around. "Are you sure we're allowed to be back here, it l--" he quickly grabbed her about the neck from behind. She gave a cry of surprise, reaching up for his arms but with a grunted wrench and the crunch of bone Bonnie's arms dropped lifelessly, just like her. He flinched a little as he did nothing to stop her descent as she dropped heavily, a dead weight to the hard ground at his flip-flopped feet.

He crouched down beside her, hardly feeling the sharp pain in his leg for the keen pain in his chest. He pushed on his sore thumb. He felt the harsh burn of tears prick his eyes. Her chest was so still; no heartbeat, no air in her lungs, her eyes hooded and blank. He reached forward with trembling fingers and tucked a loose lock of wet hair from her face; the green in her eyes was bright as they stared into the overhead sun. He wanted to be sick, he wanted to shout her name and shake her, but put an arm behind her knees and shoulders instead, grunting as he picked her up in his arms. He shifted her head so it rested against his shoulder, his arms tightening around her. When he rose his head, John was there, clean of blood in his black v-neck tee and blue jeans.

"Huh." John regarded him for a moment, flicking his tongue. Stefan stared back, face beaded in sweat, in a state of numb shock at the least. "Well, don't just stand there, killer." Stefan internally cringed. "Someone sees and I might just have to add them to the pile and your conscious."

Stefan moved forward, flip-flops slapping against his heels. John followed after him, a haunting nightmare. The vampire moved passed him as they reached the shed and held the door open, partially standing in the threshold. It forced Stefan to sidle passed him; he put his back to John, keeping himself between the blond and Bonnie for as long as possible before he finally put a permanent end to this.

He dropped painfully down onto his knees in order to lay his friend on the cold concrete as gently as possible. He wanted to stay there where he could shield her, protect her, but he couldn't and he was forced to climb painfully back onto his feet, his hand reaching for his thigh with a grimace. John only gave him a cursory glance.

"You know, I watched Bonnie growing up almost as much as I did Elena." John crouched down next to the teenager. "I knew vampires existed but I had no clue _she_ was right there beside me the entire time like some sleeper agent. A ticking time bomb of the supernatural just waiting to blow up and take Elena down with her." He gave his head a little shake. Stefan went rigid as he picked up Bonnie's wrist, it look so delicate in his hand. "Now that I'm one of you, I get it, I understand better than ever..." he put his finger on the tip of her long-nailed finger and started to press, slowly bending it backward, "Just how much all of you need to die!"

"Stop it!" Stefan grabbed his shoulder. "Haven't you done enough already!?"

John blurred to his feet and had Stefan slammed back against the sink in an instant. "Me? I'm not the one that murdered her. You were ruthless, Stefan, cold-blooded, no ounce of hesitation!" he grinned. "I think you just use the title 'Ripper of Monterey' to separate yourself from the ghoul, a worthless attempt to try and detach yourself from the truth."

"You compelled me!" Stefan shouted in denial.

"And you completed the task to the best of your heinous abilities." John said. " **AAUGH**!!" he suddenly screamed. John released Stefan and grabbed his head painfully, stumbling back from the brunette to reveal Bonnie—alive and stood up on concrete floor, her gaze fixated on the suffering vampire as she used her magic offensively, using her magic to burst arteries in the supernatural creature’s brain which quickly healed and allowed her to continue her assault.

 _Thankfully, the line up Hurricane Heights to the Aqua blast slide was a short one. Stefan sat on the inner tube with a grimace as he was forced to bend his leg, before Bonnie sat between his legs and leaned back against his chest. They pushed off into the closed chamber_ — _Stefan quickly braced his hands against the sides of the slide, slowing their descent considerably and allowing him the opportunity for a quick private conversation from John's vampire hearing._

_"Stefan, what the hell is going on?" she hissed quietly at him, her head titling back against his chest to try and get a look at him through the dimness. "When I touched you I saw vampire Uncle John!"_

_"John's a vampire and he wants revenge." He quickly hashed. "He tried to compel me to kill you," she tensed involuntarily against him and he continued quickly, "I'm playing along." She relaxed marginally at that, no longer fearing he was just going to snap her neck here and now. "I need your help, Bon. He's watching. I need to pretend to kill you, bring your body back to him and then you fry his brain. I'll do the rest."_

_"I can do an illusion spell over myself; it'll mask my heartbeat from vampire ears, make it appear like I'm dead but I'll be completely aware. But it'll take a lot out of me so the sooner you get me into a position to burn that bastard's brain to a crisp, the better." She informed him in a hard voice._

_Stefan swallowed and nodded his acceptance. His arms tightened around her waist and he pressed a kiss to her dark hair._ **Soon, these arms will be killing her** _, he thought bitterly. They shot out of the darkened tunnel all too soon and into the waiting splash pool at the bottom of Hurricane Heights and to face the inevitable._

_"What did you want to talk about?" Bonnie asked after they climbed out of the water and were left dripping off to the side. They quickly dried off with the waiting towels._

_"When I ran off earlier... but I thinks it's better if we talk somewhere a little more private and less crowded." Stefan said._

_"Okay."_

_Stefan took her hand and they walked away from the splash pool. His hand hold transformed into a palm at the small of her bare back, guiding her, inching her ahead of him as he lead them back toward FreeStylin', back towards the barren staff only area with the shed beyond the main avenues of the water park._

_"Stefan," she wondered, looking around. "Are you sure we're allowed to be back here, it l--" he quickly grabbed her about the neck from behind. She gave a cry of surprise, reaching up for his arms but with a grunted wrench and the crunch of bone Bonnie's arms dropped lifelessly, just like her. His flinch had nothing to do with his newly broken thumb and everything to do with his inaction to stop her descent as she dropped heavily, a dead weight to the hard ground at his flip-flopped feet. Did John know what a broken neck sounded like? Stefan sure did; he hoped the vampire hadn't acquainted himself in his undead life and noticed._

He knew it wasn't but her death still felt too real; the seamless merge of his breaking thumb, the wrench of his hands at her neck and her boneless fall to the ground. It all converged in his mind's eye, an endless repeat; he knew what snapping a neck for real felt like under his hands and this had been too real. The whole point of it had been to look, sound and seem real, but his own perception of it was jumble of truth and fabrication.

"Stefan!" Bonnie shouted through clenched teeth. She could already feel herself weakening; that illusion spell had taken even more than anticipated out of her. Any minute now she knew her nose was going to start to bleed and then the dizziness before the faint—that was not acceptable right now. She locked her knees to stop herself from collapsing to her knees.

Stefan grabbed the plunger by the sink and snapped the wooden handle across the edge of the sink; he dropped the lower half with the rubber suction cup and gripping his makeshift stake tightly, he lunged for the vampire. They collided and went down with a shout, the stake plunging into John’s stomach. John's pain from Bonnie's magic attack had him writhing, but the fury he felt pushed passed the immense pain of splintered wood inside his body and he managed to kick Stefan from him. Stefan landed with a pained grunt, the wind knocked out of him but he didn't allow himself to truly process and feel it, there wasn't the luxury, Bonnie didn't have time for that luxury. His hand scrabbled around for the remains of the plunger and he threw himself back onto the vampire, John reacted in a blur just as the tip of the jagged wooden edge pierced into his chest with a scream. One of his hands managed to get around the short handle, fingers overlapping Stefan's own double-handed hold, his other wrapped fiercely around Stefan's throat.

Stefan bore down his weight against the suction cup end of the broken handle in John's chest, slowly pressing it deeper towards the undead heart. John had weakened considerably under Bonnie's continued assault (who was finally forced onto her knees, blood dribbling from her nose), even as it weakened, it was forcing his body to continuously heal itself, expending his Power, practically stripping him of his enhanced strength. This definitely gave Stefan an advantage, he just needed to get the stake into his heart before John strangled him. His vision was greying out, blackness swallowing the edges, John's vamp-face inches from his own going in and out; he just needed another pound or two.

"Bonnie!" he managed to utter, his eyes rolling back into his skull.

Bonnie cut off her magical attack, her body just wanting to collapse to the side in exhaustion like her strings had been cut but an instant later, before John's blood vessels could do more than heal, she scrambled over to the struggling pair and did the only thing she could think in her spinning mind. She all but flopped onto Stefan's back as she added her weight with a grunt, the pair jerking down a couple inches as the stake completed its journey into John Gilbert's vampire heart. She got a front row seat over Stefan's shoulder as the vampires eyes widened, the bloodied sclera clearing back to his blue eyes staring straight into hers, his mouth open as an almost otherworldly grown left his lips, she shivered at the sound before his expression just froze, his pale skin turning grey as he desiccated, dried veins raising to the surface of his skin. She swallowed, pulling herself from Stefan's back and sitting back on her knees.

"Stefan?" the brunette was still, prone on top of the desiccated vampire. "Oh, god, Stefan!" Bonnie quickly rolled Stefan off of John, pulling him flat. He was still, his eyes closed, and Bonnie quickly checked for a pulse with dread, fingers on his throat, her other hand flat on his still chest. She used to lifeguard with Matt in the summers and was trained in CPR; adrenaline keeping her upright, she let that training and experience keep her level-headed. She tilted Stefan's head back and put hand-on-hand, fingers interlocked center his chest at his nipple line and pumped, counting it out breathlessly. After the count of five, she stopped, quickly plugged his nose, put her mouth over his and blew several breaths before she quickly started compressions again. "Come on, Stefan!" she pleaded, tears running down her cheeks. "You can't die, not again." She breathed into his mouth again, feeling light-headed with her own lack of oxygen but she'd give Stefan every single breath she had as long as he woke up! "Come on!"

And then Stefan coughed, gasping raggedly through the ache in his chest, the pain in his throat. He groaned quietly, swallowing with a slight grimace, his eyes fluttered.

"Stefan, hey." Bonnie gave a sob of relief, her hand lightly on his blood-smeared chest, needing to feeling his heart pumping away beneath her palm. "Hey, easy. Everything's okay."

"Bonnie?" he croaked.

"Yeah, I'm right here." She grabbed some paper towel from the roll on the ledge and wet it; she mopped Stefan's face and gently down his bruised and abused throat soothingly.

He forced his eyes open, blinking and his vision finally cleared and focused on Bonnie's worried expression hovering over him, blood smearing her upper lip. "Bonnie!" he gasped quietly, sitting probably faster than he should but his body followed through. He caught a glimpse of John desiccated but his focus was on the witch. He cupped her cheek gently with his right hand, thumb tenderly stroking her tear-stained cheek (his left aching, bruised, and swollen). "Bonnie, are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"Me?" she gave a wet scoff, looking at his state. "Just magic exhaustion," she assured. "Maybe a bit of shock."

He nodded slowly, "Good. That's good. I--" he took a deep inhale but paused, his chest hurt more that it should from the rubber plunger end. Stefan rubbed at his chest and gave a short cough. "What happened?"

"You stopped breathing, I had to give you CPR." She explained quietly around the lump in her throat. "He strangled you. You were dead!" fresh tears welled in her eyes; it had been the longest most horrible two minutes.

"Hey, hey." He hushed, one arm wrapped securely around her back, holding her close, his other hand palming the base of her skull. She buried her face in his shoulder, crying; the fear and relief finally allowed to overwhelm her. "I'm right here, Bonnie. You saved me—again." He carefully rubbed her back with his left hand. "I'll be alright." He hoped he wasn't lying.

Bonnie nodded against him. She took a few deep breaths, centering herself, focusing, before she sat back from her huddle against the brunette. "What do we do now?" she whispered. "What do we do about... him?" she glanced over at John.

"You don't have your cell, do you?" Bonnie shook her head. "OK. Hopefully John does, otherwise things are going to get even more complicated." His intention was to shift forward, search John's pockets for a cell phone and save the witch the task but he forget something important, but his body reminded him promptly, a terrible pain exploding out either ends of his femur, more upwards into his pelvis than down into his leg. He stilled, instantly sitting back to his previous position, the pained sound thrumming through his vocal cords against his want.

Bonnie put a hand on his shoulder. "Stefan, what is it?" his face was already beaded in sweat again, skin pale, dark shadows under his eyes, lines of pain tightening them. "What's wrong?" she knew he had to be shocky after his heart stopped and was revived, a firm hand impression in the bruise around his abused throat, his chest would no doubt be sore from the compressions. But the blood she'd wiped from him a bit earlier was John's from the stake wounds, and she had seen no other wounds on him other than his thumb; she'd clearly missed something.

Stefan grimaced as he swallowed, biting the inside of his cheek as he reluctantly reached down and pulled his left trunks leg up. Bonnie gasped in shock at the dark black red marbling that nearly covered the entirety of his thigh. And with the revelation of his thigh, it was easy to see in contrast how pale his lower leg was, the circulation restricted.

"God, Stefan." Gently, her fingers palpitated his flesh; confirming what she had already suspected. The flesh was swollen and she though she could feel a few irregular bumps under the skin that could be free bone; he was bleeding internally, had been for a while now.

"He fractured my femur." Stefan told her, pulling the material back down again to cover his thigh. "He only gave me enough blood to heal the other superficial, surface wounds he gave me before he sent me to kill you... but it wasn't enough." Her jaw clenched determinedly and she didn't bother with questions like 'why didn't you say anything?' and instead turned to John's body, quickly patting down his pockets and with a brief flash of relief pulled out a cell phone. Stefan told her Damon's cell number by memory before she could even ask who to call and she quickly dialled. "Tell he needs to get his ass here and we have to put a body on ice." He looked at John. "It's Elena that needs to decide what we do with him," he murmured.

Bonnie nodded and waited impatiently as the line rung. There was a click but it was just voicemail. She cursed. "Damon, it's Bonnie. This is an emergency and you need to call back at this number. John Gilbert was alive and a fucking vampire and Stefan needs to go to the hospital but we’re stuck." She hung up and tried again, but the bastard still didn't pick up the unknown caller.

"Call Ric." Stefan told her. He shifted with a grunt so he could lean back against the metal shelf. He gave her the number.

"Hello?"

"Alaric!" Bonnie gasped in relief.

"Bonnie? Why are you calling from an unknown number? Is everything okay? Stefan?" he questioned in a worried rush.

Bonnie swallowed and looked over at Stefan. Stefan held out a slightly shaking hand and she quickly gave him the phone, her gaze penetrating. He tried to give her a reassuring smile but it just came out weak. He was going into shock; she stood and started to quickly search the equipment shed.

"Ric." Stefan breathed into the mouthpiece.

"Stefan. Are you alright? What's happening?" There was the crackle of rapid movement through the line.

"You need to get Damon and you need to get to Doswell as fast as possible." Stefan told him almost lethargically. "We're in Soak City as Kings Dominion. You won't be able to track my phone. There's an equipment shed in a staff only area off of the FreeStylin' slide."

"I will, now tell my what's wrong."

His eyes slipped closed and he licked his lips. "John Gilbert got turned into a vampire, he wanted revenge. Bonnie and I managed to kill him. Elena, she doest know, Ric. I..." he trailed off.

"Stefan!" his eyes snapped open at Bonnie's voice right next to him as she started wrapping some towels she found around him.

Stefan readjusted the phone against his ear to hear Alaric's frantic calling. "'M okay. I'm okay," he muttered.

"You're going into shock, Stefan." Bonnie corrected.

"I'm trying to be positive here," he joked weakly to the both of them. Bonnie frowned at him and Alaric was also not humoured on the other end of the line. "The short and sweet of it..." he paused, his breath irregular. "There's a hospital visit in my future."

There was silence on the other end as Alaric processed that like a sucker punch. "I'm coming, Stef, okay? So just hold on for me. I'm coming."

There was a ghost of a smile on Stefan's lips. "I love you, Ric."

"I love you. I'm coming!" he repeated and the line disconnected.

"You should lay down." Bonnie said gently, taking the phone.

Stefan nodded slowly. "You're right." He braced his right palm on the concrete and grunted as he slowly lowered himself onto his elbow and then the rest of the way with her help. Once he was down, his head was cushioned in her lap. "Thanks."

"Yeah." She nodded even though his eyes were closed. She brushed the hair from his forehead and continued to gently stroke it.

"I'm sorry." He croaked quietly after a moment. "I tried, but I wasn't strong enough. I needed your help."

"You never have to be sorry for needing my help. You're my friend, I love you. Please, always ask me." There was silence for several minutes. "I think I'm going to try calling Elena." She blindly picked up the cell on the ground beside her, her thumb pressing the wrong icon on the screen and when she looked, she found herself staring at a picture of Stefan. Heart spiking, her fingers stilled on Stefan's forehead, she quickly thumbed the screen.

Stefan stripping at the quarry. Stefan jogging (several different shot in different running gear). Stefan, her, and Elena in the school parking lot. Just her. Damon outside the Grill. Stefan and Alaric. Stefan and Elena on her porch swing…

Bonnie was riddled with the creeps and she didn't even get through the whole folder before she stopped looking and dialled Elena's number, hoping her best-friend would pick up. John must have been watching them for weeks; she shivered at the thought and resumed stroking Stefan's forehead as the line rung. She stared down into his pale, sweaty face, his pulse weak, his breaths irregular and she could see his marked thigh all too vividly. He must have been walking around on it. She had no idea how he could have hid the pain it must have caused so well. He _carried_ her on that, killed John with it. Elena's questioning voice came through the phone and Bonnie quickly responded.

Stefan was in pain but Bonnie's touch was comforting, and the angel wings were a distraction, flapping in and out of his conscious; he could swear he could feel the resulting air stream, the howling of the wind before he was brought back by the sound of Bonnie's voice. He was settling into the pain, his mind numbing to it, a classic sign of setting shock. He thought he heard Alaric, Damon's curse, a warmness against his mouth, but it was all too far away and then the angel wings and grey eyes couldn't even reach him—and soon there was just darkness.

~ **_T V D_** ~

Stefan came to groggily, he could feel the pain like it was smothered, hovering just on the edge of his awareness, waiting for an opportune moment to come flooding back through him. He swallowed with a cotton filled mouth, his tongue uselessly licking his dry lips. He felt dried up, his skin too tight--

_Wake up, Sleepy-Head._

"Lexi?" he croaked in confusion.

"Stefan."

His eyelids peeled open, his eyes felt gritty and stung in the overhead light. It took them a moment to focus on the face hovering over him, his stare blank a moment before it registered. "Bonnie."

"Hey." She gave him a soft, relieved smile.

"Bonnie!" he realized in terror, the image of her falling boneless and utterly still at his feet flashing through his head. He attempted to jerk upright, his hand reaching out and grasping her forearm. "Are you okay?" his green gaze scoured her; she was dressed out of her swimsuit in a pair tan canvas shorts and dark green tank top, and she still looked exhausted but not enough to keel over like before, not a visible scratch or bruise on her to his relief.

"Easy," she squeezed his hand reassuringly on her arm. "I'm okay. You're in the hospital." He blinked and glanced around and sure enough, he was in a hospital room; there was oxygen in his nose, an IV in the back of his right hand, a pulse monitor clamped on his index finger. "We're still in Doswell."

"What happened?" he rasped.

"Here." Bonnie reached for a Styrofoam cup on the wheeled tray by his bed and offered it to him. "Ice chips for your throat."

He reached out but paused to stare at his left hand and rotated his _healed_ thumb in confusion. _It should be broken_ , his mind reasoned, _I broke it in lieu of Bonnie's neck_. He swallowed, his eyes jumping to her face when the witch gently took his hand and wrapped his fingers around the cup, her thumb brushing the back of his hand before she let go. He scooped some chips into his mouth with the plastic spoon, letting them melt and wet his maw. It reawakened the taste of stale iron in his mouth.

"When Damon and Alaric finally made it, you were really weak, Stefan." Bonnie said quietly. "There was no other choice but to give you vampire blood; it healed your thumb and even made your heart stronger but... I don't know why, but it wouldn't heal your leg."

Stefan slowly ground an ice chip between his back molars, his gaze turning down to his left leg covered by the blanket, elevated comfortably. He wasn't in traction, thankfully, nor did he see the irregular shape of an external fixation on the outside of his thigh through the blanket. He must have already went through surgery. He handed the cup to Bonnie after one final scoop, she set it back on the tray as he pulled back the blanket to reveal his left leg.

"The surgeon said it was like a car parked on your thigh when they got the x-ray back." She told him, eyes fixed on his leg. The edge of his gown high on his thigh, leaving little to the imagination.

"Not a car," Stefan said, his fingertips gently running over the thick bandage engulfing his thigh, a bit of blood spotting through. "Just John Gilbert's hand. A comminuted fracture," he murmured. "It had to be. The bone fragmented, cut through nerve and vessels, that's what caused all that internal bleeding." His fingertips teased at the edge of the bandage, he wanted to peel it back, _see_ , but he ignored the urge. "With all the bleeding they would have had to open me up, stop the bleeders and collect any stray bone splinters even before they began the actual procedure. A rod through the bone, a bridging plate, some screws..."

"Stefan, how...?" she shook her head, "How would you know that?"

He blinked and covered his leg again and sent her a wan smile. "Though every fracture is as different as every fingerprint, the procedure of treatment hasn't changed that much since the '70's. An upgrade in equipment, some tweaks to the technique, but the principal is still the same. Just more paper in the boxes in the attic." Bonnie couldn't help but stare at him for a moment and he rested back against his pillow, exhaling slowly, his pain waking up the more he became aware. "Everyone else okay? Elena, she--"

"Elena's more focused on her worry about you right now than the whole John-situation. She went to the cafeteria a bit ago; you needed blood but your type is really rare so she made a donation."

Stefan nodded his understanding; doppelganger blood. "What about the others? How do they see the situation?"

"A little Damon compulsion." Bonnie sighed, her hands on the bedrail. "They all think you got sick and Elena and I drove you home early, but they're going to finish the trip."

"At least I only ruined the trip for you and Elena," he commented wryly. "My record's already looking up."

"This wasn't your fault, Stefan."

"Bonnie, I got you--" Elena paused for a moment in the doorway, staring, 2 takeout coffees and a small pastry bag for Bonnie in hand, before she quickly moved forward. "You're awake. Thank god." She quickly set the stuff down on the side table and leaned over the bed railing, hugging him.

Stefan wrapped his arms around her and held tight, face buried in her chlorine smelling hair, hers against his gowned chest. Did she know the truth of how John was turned into a vampire? Did any of them? It wasn't talked about, how they had found him and Stefan didn't asked but he knew it could only have been either of two ways; through John or Lucy. He knew one thing now for sure, Damon had found John but Stefan was positive, no matter what his brother did to put the blond through the paces of his pain threshold, the Council member in his determination to protect his daughter, never gave up the location—if he even knew.

"It's okay, Elena." He whispered into her hair. John had been her father, her family...

"It is now." She lifted her head, her brown eyes a little shiny but her expression was determined. "He's gone—for good this time. He can't hurt anyone anymore, not you, not me."

"Don't say that, Elena." He denied, cupping her cheek with his left hand. "He was your family, he loved you, he--"

"He didn't love me," her scoff was watery. "If he did, he would have accepted me for who I am and who I choose to love."

"He was trying to protect you in the only way he knew how." He thumbed away a stray tear that fell down her cheek. "That was one thing I could not begrudge him of. It's okay to hate him for all he's done, but still love him."

She sniffed and nodded after a moment. "Thank you, Stefan." She straightened, wiping her wet eyes and tucking her hair behind her ears. "I'm glad you and Bonnie are okay."

"Me, too." He glanced over to Bonnie on his other side and she gave him a small smile in return; he ignored the flash of her boneless collapse from his hold behind his eyelids.

"Here, I brought you a coffee and danish, Bonnie." Elena passed over the unopened takeout cup and paper bag over to the witch.

"Thanks, Elena."

"Wh--" Stefan started to wonder, only to stop at movement in the doorway that Elena hadn't shut in her hurry to get to him. "Ric." Blue eyes scoured him with relief and Elena barely managed to step back as the vampire blurred the short distance to the bed. Alaric gently cupped his face, tilting it up and gazing at him for a moment before he leaned down and pressed a long kiss to his mouth. The girls discreetly turned their gazes as Elena joined Bonnie at the window bay. Alaric touched their foreheads together, eyes open, breathing Stefan's breath, inhaling deeply and smelling him, listening to his strong heartbeat—reiterating to himself of Stefan's _aliveness._

Finally, Alaric backed up enough to kiss him again and murmured, "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," Stefan squeezed his wrist.

"You scared me, Stefan." Alaric whispered quiet so only he would hear.

"I'm here. I'm alive," he swore. "Thanks for picking up your phone."

"And I'm sure that's a jab in my direction," Damon commented, the room door swinging closed behind him, his arms crossed over his chest.

Stefan looked toward him. "It wasn't."

"Good." His sharp gaze didn't stray from Stefan's, able to see the pain masked in his eyes, his tiredness. "You're up just in time, brother. Time to get out of here."

Stefan shot a confused glance at the others. "What are you talking about?"

"He just woke up from surgery, Damon." Elena said.

"I know. The doc pieced the jigsaw puzzle that was your femur back together, its all stable and safe for you to take the blood. It'll heal right up and you can come home."

Stefan took a deep breath. "I--"

"—you're taking the blood, Stefan." Damon told him, his tone brokering no arguments.

Stefan scoffed bitterly, glaring at his brother. _This is all your fault_ , was the scorn on the tip of his tongue, but he pushed it back. At satisfying as it might be to spit the venom, see the expression on his brother's face for that half instant, what would follow after would not feel so great. Revenge was never a particularly satisfy event for someone like him with the guilt complex stretching out into space. "I don't want any blood, Damon." He told Damon evenly.

"I'm Power drained, Stefan, and a minute away from draining any number of these lovely blood bags walking around like they _want_ to be eaten—so stow the self-righteousness and for once in your life don't argue."

Stefan stared at him, silently incredulous and bit his bottom lip roughly to block off his immediate heated response. His hand subconsciously went to his left thigh as the recent event assailed him. ' _You Salvatores are such the self-righteous type, always know best, better than everyone else despite you being the worst of us all._ _Right now though, I'm going to lower my standards. Take you down a leg.'_ Stefan swallowed against the lump in the throat and buried the resurged memory as the heart monitor gave a beep. "Why can't you just respect my choice for once?"

"I don't care if you're feeling guilty and you're trying to make this your penance."

"This has nothing to do with any guilt I might feel." Stefan refuted.

"Please," Damon scoffed with an eye roll. "You're all about the guilt, it's like your religion."

"I want to feel _human_ , Damon, I _need_ to feel human." He shouted in frustration and resignation. "Why can't you understand that? My heart beats and I no longer have any of the enhanced senses and abilities of being a vampire, but has anything truly changed? I'm still forced to drink blood every day, I still feel the ache in my gums for fangs that aren't there anymore, that urge to sink my teeth into something. I'm always healed, I don't get to _feel_ anything; experience being alive and human." He paused for a moment, laying back against the pillows and panting lightly for the effort of speaking so vociferously. "I'm still practically a vampire, just much easier to kill now." He uttered bitterly, his clenched fist pressed against his forehead. The pain in his leg was steadily growing; wasn't he supposed to be on morphine?

"Stefan, you need to rest." Alaric said, sending Damon a warning glare and he wasn't the only one.

"I'm fine." Stefan denied, running his hand down his face and wiping away the sweat. He turned his gaze back to his brother, with his infuriatingly aloof expression while Stefan was filled with desperate cracks fuelled by pain, exhaustion, and irritation. "I don't want to drink the blood every day any more. I can survive off the magic from the ring, like I've been doing the last couple days. Right?" he looked to the witch.

Bonnie bit her lip briefly and started with hesitation, "Stefan, I don't know..."

"What do you mean? I've been feeling great."

"I know you were using this as a trial run, Stefan," she sighed. "But it just wasn't enough time for the magic in the blood to run its course and the magic from the ring to integrate into your body properly, and then..." she couldn't say it.

"John fed you his blood, didn't he." Damon finished for her harshly.

Stefan stilled, shoulders stiff and lips pursed tightly. He swallowed against the sudden surge of saliva in his mouth, trying to prompt the way for the nausea. It had been a hard feat to open his mouth and let John to give him blood; he had been desperate, made himself swallow it even as his entire body and being fought against it. Even now, just the memory, he felt ill, wanted to purge; stick his finger down his throat (though the sick didn't need much prompting right now), cut himself open and bleed the vile blood out, though he knew it didn't work like that he was still tempted. John Gilbert's magic would always be a part of him, in that mindless black hole that just sucked in the magic without prejudice, just like Katherine would always be a part of him. He was never going to get away from it, any of it, he realized.

"Yeah." He licked his lips, his breathing harsh in his own ears. He pulled the pulse clamp from his finger, the jumping spikes of his heartbeat on the EKG monitor collapsing down into a flat line, the long droning beep the only sound in the room.

"Stefan, what are you doing?" Elena protested.

Stefan ignored her and pulled off the oxygen cannula. "I need scissors, there should be some in one of the trolley’s drawers, please." Elena refused to move and he flicked his gaze over to the wide-eyed witch; Bonnie must have seen something in his eyes because after a moment she turned and started going through the cart drawers amid Elena's protests. Next, Stefan pulled away the tape from the back of his hand and carefully pulled the IV needle out, blood welling from the prick and he licked it away without comment. Alaric could do nothing but watch, his fists clenched tightly, resisting the urge to blur forward and restrain the teen; Damon was an unimpressed, impassive observer.

Bonnie came back with a pair of sterile stitch scissors still in their package, he took them with a nod. He pulled back the blanket and amongst protests—he pulled away the bandage on his thigh. He had been right, they'd opened him up when typically they would have done approximately 9, 1 cm incisions along the outside of his thigh. There was still some discolouring on his skin from the internal bleeding that was fading on its own. He took the scissors from the package, ignored the cold sting of the blades against the fresh incision and with a steady hand, proceeded to snip the approximately 50 stitches holding together the 12 inch wound. There was a notched tip in one of the blades that severely helped the proceedings but it was still painful. Dropping the scissors, he then pulled each cut thread from his skin, the wound pulling, the two lips of skin separating at the treatment, fresh blood weeping from the wound. He was a bit shaky by the end of it, the pain immense, teeth biting sharply into his cheek to prevent himself from uttering any pained sounds. With blood seeping into the sheet beneath his leg, fingers slick with his own blood, he looked up and straight through his brother. "Come then, brother. Let's have your blood. Heal me."

"You think your B Movie dramatics are enough to make me stop?" Damon said, approaching the bed. "You don't want to play chicken with me, little brother, you'll lose every time." His fangs descended and he bit into the inside of his wrist, opening a wound and held out the bleeding limb to the brunette instead of pressing it against his mouth, forcing Stefan to physically take it by choice.

Stefan took hold of his brother's forearm and pressed his wrist to his mouth. His sharp canines sunk into the wound, keeping it open and bleeding and prevented it from healing as he sucked, drinking the vampire's magic-laced blood. He squeezed his eyes closed, shutting them all out, forcing the tears back—and counted. A cup of vampire blood, he could tell you how many sips it took to finish off, how many swallows, how many gulps. That urge to gulp ravenously, lose himself in the lust, to not have to feel any of it, anything at all but that was an enticing desire that he quashed. Damon was watchful, waiting and ready to take the source away, suspicious of that same conclusion, but the freedom that overindulgence would give Stefan was truly just the prison of his demise. By now it was like a learned program; take what was given, no more, no less, the obedient Frankenstein Monster.

Four gulps and he pushed Damon's arm away, wiping any blood from around his mouth with the back of his hand. By the time he got a chance to see his thigh the last of the mottled bruising was disappearing along with the incision, leaving behind no mark on his skin to suggest there was titanium screwed to his femur shaft, just the remnants of blood that Stefan wiped off the sensitive skin with the corner of the blanket.

"My clothes?" Stefan asked quietly, already putting the railing down and shifting his legs over the side to sit up.

"Stefan. Hey," he had no other choice but look into Alaric's face when the vampire stepped in front of him, hand grasping the side of his throat, thumb pushing his chin up. "Go easy, please."

But all Stefan could think about was that Alaric's hand was over where John had fed from him while he had been unconscious. Somehow it held even more violation than even being forced to drink John's blood. Alaric was the only one who got to bite him, feed from him, that was his boyfriend's privilege. No other fangs had pierced this version of his human skin and he felt like he'd betrayed Alaric for allowing it to happen. Stefan couldn't help but turn his gaze away in shame; damn John Gilbert!

"What is it?" Alaric whispered in concern.

"I'm fine, all healed up." Stefan said, just another invisible scar to laden his psyche. Alaric was forced to step back when Damon set a bag on the bed next to him, the girls turned their backs and Stefan quickly pulled on the pair of provided blue jeans (left to go commando) and the dark blue t-shirt. He paused, at the bottom of the bag was the flip-flops. It had been thoughtful and kind of Matt to buy them for him, but that was the extent, he despised the cheap sandals. He would rather walk through broken glass _barefoot_ than even have the flimsy protection of these flip-flops, but he forced himself to slip his toes between the rubber thongs. If he could get away with it, he would have walked out of the hospital barefoot but he'd already freaked the others out by pulling out the stitches from his wound with manic precision.

He stood, able to put his full weight on his left leg without pain or issue, gathered up the bloodied sheet, blanket and gown and discarded them in the 'soiled linens' bin by the door, only to pull the bag out and push it into Damon's chest before he walked from the private room.

No one tried to stop them as they left the post-op ward (Damon's compulsion work no doubt paving their clean exit). The short elevator ride, the 5 of them packed briefly in the metal box, was an awkward, tense silence. And then he was stepping out the automatic doors to the hospital's roofed main entrance, security lights cutting through the night and clearly lighting their path. Damon's soft top wasn't parked at the walk this time, not that Stefan would have gotten in it anyway, not right now.

As if already knowing that, Bonnie took his hand and led him across the lot to parking. Alaric was right there on his other side, but Elena was hesitant as she walked with them, leaving his brother behind. He wasn't completely sure whether Elena was fearful _for_ him or _of_ him right now, it was a good chance it was a mixture of both, not that he deserved her concern. Not after all he'd put her through. After all the terrible things he brought into her life; what happened back in the hospital room had been the most horrifying for her to witness. And Bonnie; he'd forced her to be a party to killing, _used_ her. First Katherine and now John. Though killing vampires had to be one of the purest things a witch could do with her magic, Stefan didn't want that for her. He sucked in a short, sharp breath as he again snapped her neck in his mind, but Alaric looked like the only one who noticed.

When they finally made it to Elena's SUV, Alaric climbed into the back with him but Stefan left the flip-flops on the dark asphalt outside his door before he got in. In the brief interior light of the car, he found his buckle boots in the back where he'd put them just that morning before they'd all gone into Soak City, and slipped his socks and them back onto his feet, feeling a comforting sort of anchor, a bit more himself.

He had been waiting, dreading the inevitable other shoe to drop; the shadow a pinprick on the ground between his feet. The fall had been longer than he expected, so much so that when the flicker of shadow revealed itself, it was omitted. His fight with Damon about Andie, he'd just presumed that was it and thought he managed to dodge it at the last moment. That had been his... self-righteousness rearing its cocky head. No, that had just been the appetizer, a tease of what was in his future. The shoe landed but this sure as hell felt like an anvil; with a resounding thud, shaking his world apart.

As Elena drove from the town, her high beams lighting the lonely highway back to Mystic Falls, Damon's headlights behind her, Alaric took Stefan's hand and interlaced their fingers. Stefan managed to give him a faint smile before he resumed his sightless gaze out the window of dark passing scenery. The 2 hour drive was one of silence with the occasional furtive glance from Bonnie in the passenger's seat or Elena in the rear-view mirror. They didn't know what to say to him and he didn't know what to tell them in return. He knew he'd frightened and freaked them out (Ric, too) and his mental health was the last thing they needed to worry about on top of his physical health, Elena's loss and Bonnie's own trauma in the events up to that point. It had been him throwing in the flag to Damon and him doing that in the most hurtful, destructive and blood way he could to the man with what he had; he just hated that they had to witness his disgrace.

When Elena turned off the highway and up the Boarding House drive, Damon's headlights didn't slow and simply passed heading into town. Stefan scoffed to himself; what, he couldn't face the outcome of his demand? Maybe it was better, he couldn't deal with his brother right now; he was too furious, guilty, and ashamed with himself. Elena parked and they all wearily climbed from the SUV.

Alaric got Stefan's duffle from the back of the SUV. "Have a goodnight, ladies. Get some rest." He went into the darkened Boarding House.

"Aren't you guys coming in?" Stefan questioned but he got two declined invitations. "It's almost 4 in the morning," he looked between the two, "You're both exhausted, you shouldn't be driving. You can stay in a guest room."

"We'll be okay, Stefan." Bonnie assured. "I called Grams earlier, told her a bit of what happened, we're just going to stay there." She gave him a soft smile and gave him a hug. He took the moment to hold her again, feel the warmth of skin, her breath against the side of his neck before she stepped back.

Elena nodded. "I don't want to freak Aunt Jenna by just showing up this late, especially when she isn't expecting it. Besides," she attempted to tease, "I think you're in good hands and don't need us around to watch."

He pulled Elena into a slightly hesitant hug, but the teen wrapped her arms tightly around him. "I'm sorry, Elena." He whispered regretfully into her ear. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"You did." She admitted against his neck. "But Damon was the one that pushed you when he shouldn't have. He was just scared, too, and guilty—I know and I'm not trying to make excuses for him. It didn't take me very long to put two and two together once I got over the shock to realize that it was Damon who had turned John into a vampire. I'm furious at him and he deserves that, but I also understand why he acted the way he did with you at the hospital—not that he deserves to know that right now." She muttered a little darkly.

 _John was right,_ Stefan thought, _her heart is too good._ He stroked her hair but said nothing, just holding her for a moment before they parted. He cupped her face and kissed her forehead. "Drive safe."

"Try and get some sleep, Stefan." She touched his cheek gently. "You need it."

The pair got back into the SUV and Stefan gave a subdued wave, standing in the dark driveway, watching until the red-glowing taillights disappeared from view around a bend in the drive. He dropped his hand limply back to his side and turned his face upward, looking into the star-speckled night sky; he wished he could have his own wings right now, propel himself up into the night sky towards the sliver of moon the hung there—instead, he returned his gaze back to earth, his reality and headed into the house. As he toed off his boots in the entrance hall lit with light bulb sconces, unsure of where Alaric was at the moment, he contemplated what he wanted to do first. He hadn't eaten since lunch, his body had been through a trauma and he needed the food, but right now, more than that, he needed to wash it away—literally. So, instead of going to the kitchen, he went upstairs.

He didn't even greet Salvatore as he crossed his dark room to his en suite, stripping off his clothes to the tile floor in the dim lighting of the motion activated nightlight above the sink. He thumbed the switch on it so it stayed lit instead of turning on the overhead bathroom light and stepped into the shower stall. He turned the faucet on just a touch below unbearably hot, filling the shower with steam. He scrubbed thoroughly, every inch of skin coated in soap suds, wishing he could scrub the inside, too. His eyes stung and it took him a moment to realize all the soap had washed away and he was crying instead. He sunk to the bottom of the shower, his knees drawn to his chest, the water spray hitting between the shoulder blades of his curled form.

He felt nothing like this after being freed from Katherine's kidnapping and on paper they didn't even compare: magically confined and off the radar/ fed from/ staked/ tortured with vervain/ mind manipulation/ turning Ric/ and killing him v. fed on/ broken femur/ fed blood/ and 'compelled'. See? there was no competition. And ultimately everything seemed to work out after Katherine's attempt; she was dead and both Stefan and Alaric had made it out, not unscathed, but they survived, adapted and then prospered. And now John was dead and Stefan had been the only one to get hurt. No real conversation had been had about it, just like Katherine; the ‘how’ of the rescue.

He whimpered as he saw Bonnie again and his arms tightened around his knees. She was alive, she was alright, she'd told him herself, he'd held her in his arms, _felt_ her alive against him. But it continued to haunt him.

Maybe it was because he didn't have to face Alaric's death, had only experienced it for a minute before he met his own and the next when he was alive again, so was Alaric. But he had to endure Bonnie's. It may have been an act, but it also wasn't. Stefan had seen so much death in his long life, caused most of it. He knew what death looked like and Bonnie, crumpled on the ground at his feet like a carelessly dropped rag doll had been that picture. Her chest still, body boneless, expression slack, lips slightly parted, her eyes blank and staring into the distance of a different world. And John had touched her; Stefan had let him until he couldn't.

He had been forced to stand by as Damon staked and killed Lexi, so furious and broken and weak with the devastation of losing his longest, closest friend—his sister—of the past 145 years, that Elena's insubstantial strength had been enough to keep him pressed against the wall inside the mouth of the alleyway outside the Grill and from stumbling out there in his vamp-face, forced to watch as they stuffed her body carelessly into Damon's trunk. At least after he'd staked Damon, he'd been able to give her a proper burial.

Tears were the only thing that wet his face now, the tears felt hotter on his face than the spray against his back. For some reason John Gilbert had been able to get under his skin and root around like no other he'd met before; human-vampire, vampire-human, their rolls had never seemed to matter. Another phantom to stalk through his days, another ghost to haunt his dreams. His left hand clutched his thigh, fingertips digging into the healed and flawless skin. Maybe Damon had been half right, he wanted the pain, the injury an act of self-flagellation; a reminder, a scar seen of the truth in John Gilbert's words. Self-righteousness was an easy thing born and a hard thing forgotten when one has lived so long, done so much, seen so much of the world and human nature through the ages; a misfortune of vampire immortality. A type of vanity that comes from being able to survive what most humans cannot.

Alaric didn't discern the crying from the running shower until he was in the bedroom. Not knowing what to do with himself, there was one thing he could do. Stefan hadn't eaten since lunch and even if the brunette didn't have the appetite he would need to eat, so Alaric had put a childhood comfort food together that always worked for him, PB&J and a tall glass of hot milk. He had heard the shower come on while in the kitchen. But now he quickly set the plate and glass on the reading table and blurred into the dim-lighted bathroom.

"Stefan?" he switched on the overhead light despite being able to see clearly, it overpowering the eerie glow of the nightlight. The room was filled with steam from the shower, the moist air moving as he approached the stall which was nearly dense with it. He quickly opened the door, a thick cloud billowing out against him to see Stefan curled up at the bottom, crying into his knees. "Stef!" not caring that he was fully clothed, he quickly stepped in, dropping to his knees. He grasped his slick shoulders. "Hey, look at me. Look at me." He carded his fingers through the plastered strand at Stefan's forehead, brushing them out of the way as he cupped the brunette's chin with the other, raising his face from his knees. "Come on now."

With tear filled eyes, Stefan seemed to stare through him for a moment before he blinked, fresh tears running down his flushed cheeks and his eyes drew focus.

"Hey," he murmured, caressing Stefan's cheek; the teen allowed himself to draw comfort from the little touches. "None of that," Alaric told him when he noticed Stefan's grip on his thigh. He pulled the hand away, crescent marks left on the skin from his nails, and he held his hand. "Everyone's okay, Stefan. Everything is going to be okay."

Stefan shifted and suddenly flung his arms around the vampire, holding him tight and getting him wet in the spray. Alaric wrapped an arm around his back, his other hand his nape. "I thought I was free of him."

"You are now."

Stefan shook his head. "I'm not, I'm not. He made me drink his blood, I had to drink his blood. He's in me forever now just like Katherine."

Alaric's fingers dug into wet skin. "Katherine is gone, Stefan." He said firmly. "And so is John. They can't hurt you now unless you let them."

But Stefan wasn't listening. "He was right, everything he said. He was always right." His fingers fisted into the wet material on Alaric's back. "I was horrible at being a vampire and I'm not even a proper human now. But it's all just excuses masquerading the truth. The Ripper's just a mask to hide behind, a sham to try and separate myself from the monster, but it's my own face I'm hiding behind."

"Hey. Hey!" Alaric grasped his slick shoulders and pushed him back so they were face-to-face. "Don't say that, it's not true and you know it. You're still in shock, exhausted, and you haven't had time to process properly."

"He wanted me to kill Bonnie."

"But you didn't. You killed him instead."

Stefan shook his head. "No," he sobbed. "I did! Zero-to-monster, no hesitation. I didn't even hesitate! I broke her neck and I left her. I let him touch her--!"

"No!" Alaric gave him a shake. "Bonnie told us what happened, Stef. You **pretended** to break her neck and she played dead so you could trick John and stake him. You saved Bonnie... and you protected Elena. You protected them, Stefan! You were never the threat, it was always him; first with Katherine and now this. He's just trying to make you doubt yourself, don't let him."

Stefan couldn't help it. Most of what John said to him were the doubts that went through his own head, his own fears pulled from the dark and privacy of his mind put to voice and light. He couldn't help but wonder about _everything_ John had said, whether it was true or his own guilt and inadequacy feeding them as truth.

Alaric held his face, made sure the brunette was focused on him, his words. "You're a good person, Stefan, but you're not perfect, no one is. You're just trying to figure your way through life like the rest of us. You've made mistakes, big ones, just like the rest of us. So, you learn from those mistakes, let those scars lead you in a better direction. You can't get more normal than that."

Stefan licked the salt from his lips. "But don't you see?" he whispered. "I don't have any scars." He gave the vampire a hollow smile and rose to his feet. "I'm cursed to repeat over and over again. I could blame in on the doppelganger curse, but maybe that's just another excuse to pardon myself." He finally turned off the shower spray and turned back to find Alaric on his feet, wet clothing plastered to his body.

The dirty-blond gave a sad sigh. "I know right now you can only take what I'm saying with a grain of salt—if at all—but I'll keep saying it until you believe it because it's the truth. Do you hear me?" Alaric's hand brushed down from his cheek to cup the side of his neck and Stefan involuntarily flinched at the touch, which gave the vampire great pause. An unreadable look settled on his face as he looked at the brunette. "Stefan, did he... _touch_ you?" he felt ill just saying the words, let alone thinking them.

Stefan stared at him for a moment in shock at the question before he gave a watery snort and derisive scoff. He just shook his head and stepped dripping from the shower. He grabbed a towel from the cupboard before turning towards the door.

Alaric grabbed his upper arm and jerked him back around. "Stefan." He pressed.

"No, he didn't _rape_ me." Stefan spat and Alaric couldn't help the flinch. Stefan pulled his arm free and left the en suite. He half-heartedly dried on his way to his chest of drawers, his hand going to the side of his neck, fingers clenching at the flesh. He swallowed and forced his hand away as he pulled open the top drawer.

Alaric stripped from his sopping clothes in the bathroom and came out for sweatpants. "He didn't rape you but he did _something_ else other than whatever Bonnie was able to discern though, didn't he?" he said quietly as Stefan passed him toward the bed in flannel bottoms, causing the brunette to stop and stiffen in non-verbal confirmation. He quickly pulled a t-shirt on overhead. "Stefan?"

Stefan swallowed quietly, his fingers twitching. To fight the urge to reach up obviously to his neck and unable to face his boyfriend, he turned to the dresser. There were still some heart adhesives on the outside of Salvatore's bowl from February and he picked at one as the comet goldfish swished around his bowl, an extra flick to his tailfin at his owner's activity outside his little world.

Alaric walked forward and put a hand on the back of Stefan's bare shoulder. "Talk to me, please. You're hiding from me; you keep looking ashamed and guilty. It's the same look you kept flashing me back when Katherine managed to pass through the house’s threshold barrier by feeding you her blood." He gave his head a small shake in confusion. "You know you can tell me, Stefan. Haven't I proven that to you?"

The heart sticker tore and Stefan dropped his hand. "You have," he croaked around the lump in his throat. "What Katherine did to me... I know it made you angry." His hand reached up and grasped the side of his neck. "But this is different... somehow, this is worse."

Alaric was quiet as he looked at the brunette, his gaze flickering down to the hand on his neck, his fingers clenched. It took him almost a moment too long to put two-and-two together. "He feed from you, didn't he?" he growled furiously, literally seeing red for a moment as his sclera flooded with blood at the explosion of anger.

He grabbed Stefan's shoulders and pushed him back against the dresser, causing the shelf to judder briefly and Salvatore's water to threaten to slosh. Stefan's free hand fisted in the material of Alaric's cotton shirt at his ribs, his green eyes steady on the vampire's face as Alaric's pulled his hand from his neck and with intensity, traced the unmarked skin with his fingertips. Tracing across the delicate artery pulsing beneath the thin layers as Stefan gulped. His large palm enveloped his throat and Alaric crashed his lips against the brunette, tongue demanding entry and instantly gaining it, the tips of his fangs nipping his lips.

"Bite me." Stefan said. "I want you to feed from me. I only want _you_ to feed from me. Please, Ric?" his fisted the front of his shirt with his other hand.

"He had no right to think he could touch you like that—touch you at all." His thumb brushed over Stefan throat, before pressing a soft, loving kiss in the same spot. "Nobody does, Stefan." His fingers brushed through his damp locks and cupped his nape, tilting his head. He licked the skin, his breath ghosting warmly across the wet patch. His upper lip pulled back from his fangs, his mouth pressed against the skin—and he bit down, piercing the flesh.

Stefan gasped, but it was more a sob of relief, his hold tightening on the teacher, than it was of the brief, sharp pain as the razor-sharp teeth pierced his flesh. John Gilbert feed from him like Katherine, who made no effort to make it as painless as possible even while they made love (there had been a time once when he had passed out from the blood loss while still inside of her); Alaric had never once been that way, not even while taken with the hungry lust in the throws of sweaty, orgasmic sex. Stefan squeezed his eyes closed against the sting of tears, his hand coming up from between them, stroking the back of the vampire's head as he drank gently. There was no uncomfortable sharp pressure of blood being stolen too fast, just the gentle encouragement like a babe for milk. And the phantom of John's feeding staining his skin finally vanished when Alaric released him and tended the bleeding mark with his tongue gently until it stopped. He peppered tender kisses around the feeding mark before he finally rose his head and kissed away a stray tear that had escaped down Stefan's cheek.

He rested his forehead against the brunette's, cupping his face. "I love you. You're safe now."

Stefan exhaled and nodded, Alaric's head moving with his. "I love you, too."

They stayed like that for a moment, just finally soaking in the other's presence before Alaric finally leaned back, gazing at him. "You're exhausted, you need to get some sleep. But first, you have to eat something."

"Okay."

"I made you some sandwiches earlier," Alaric went around the computer desk and to the table where he'd left the plate and glass. "I wasn't sure what you wanted to do first, but if you want something else--"

"This is fine, Ric." Stefan promised, sitting at the table. He pulled the plate toward him. The two sandwiches were stacked and cut once diagonally. He picked up a piece.

"It's PB&J," Alaric told him.

Stefan took a bite of the triangle and gave a small smile as he chewed. He swallowed and looked over at Alaric. "You put honey on it."

Alaric smiled back, watching him. "Of course, you like honey in it."

Stefan continued eating. The glass of milk had turned from hot to cool and now to room temperature but he still drank it, washing down the PB&J’s satisfyingly. Alaric had been right, he had needed to eat something and with food in his stomach he felt better. Now he just needed sleep, lots of sleep. He just hoped his mind would take to it as well as his stomach had the food.

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So... what did you think? I know you were all wanting and waiting and hoping it was Klaus, but that really would have come up out of nowhere and with zero background. I honestly don't think that I'm going to bring Klaus into this other than Stefan's Katherine-Klaus hybrid hallucination and those dreams, sorry to disappoint any of you. Anyway, John Gilbert's (brief) resurrection, thoughts?


	23. CHAPTER 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Includes/Spoilers/WARNING:** smut, underage/drinking.

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

It had been around 4 in the morning when he and Alaric were dropped at the Boarding House. Dawn had already broken, blocked out by the thick curtains on his bedroom windows, when they finally made it to bed around 6. Stefan found himself staring at the glowing numbers of his alarm clock on the nightstand as they changed to 9:17. He'd almost gotten 3 hours of strobing nightmares he managed to wake himself up without waking Alaric too.

After being kidnapped by Katherine, that first night he was forced to spend it alone; Alaric a hungry bampi, hours old, him a newly minted human blood bag. He'd didn't have to experience much of the immediate aftermath of that night either as his body was quickly ravaged by fever and his thoughts became muddled, putting him into entirely different and mixed periods of his past life. He didn't have, what now felt a luxury, of that this time; a fever to muddle the fresh traumas and experienced horrors. His body was healthy, his mind clear.

Despite the blood that healed his leg, his body was exhausted. His mind was as well but it was too busy circling to let itself stop and him rest. It was those continuously revolving thoughts that had turned into a strobing nightmare of images for the barely 3 hours of exhausted sleep that he had first managed to fall into. Him incapacitated by John's hand in that shed, Bonnie trapped in her own spell, immobile but present and aware, both helpless as the revengeful vampire proceeded to drain the witch.

He turned his gaze from the clock and too his dark, beamed ceiling. He hoped Bonnie and Elena were getting the sleep they needed, and if not, they had each other to lean on for reassurance which eased his worry. John was dead, the threat was gone, they were now safe to heal and move on. Stefan took a deep breath and shifted onto his side, his back to the taunting clock and snuggled closer to Alaric. Still asleep, the vampire instinctively reacted to his familiar presence and warmth, holding him close, his face nestled against the brunette's neck, breath ghosting over his scabbed feeding mark. Stefan gave a little shiver, hand stroking Alaric's mussed hair, and forced his eyes closed, forced the image of Bonnie crumpled at his feet burned into the backs of his eyelids away. John was dead, the threat was gone, they were now safe to heal and move on.

Stefan opened his eyes and sat up; Alaric paused, the covers pushed down, about ready to slip quietly from bed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Stefan looked behind him at the clock; 11:37. He shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his face and up through his bed head. "I was about ready to wake up anyways."

Alaric shifted on the bed to face him. "You were dreaming."

Stefan gave a quiet snort. "If you could call it that."

"About Bonnie?" he asked quietly but already knew the answer.

Stefan shifted his gaze away guiltily. "I couldn't help it."

"You can't help a nightmare." Alaric cupped his cheek, thumb gently stroking. "Do you want me to call them? I'm sure they're as worried about you."

"They shouldn't have to worry about me." Stefan countered. He pulled Alaric's hand from his cheek but kept it held with both of his in his lap, thumb fiddling with the daylight right on his right ring finger. "I wasn't afraid of Katherine," he said, his tired gaze flickering up. "I'm mean... I was afraid when she flipped her switch, I was afraid when she went after you. I was afraid of the things she was doing but I wasn't really afraid of _her_ like I probably should have been. But John--" his throat tightened and he swallowed. His hold on Alaric's had did too and the vampire responded reassuringly in kind. He licked his lips. "Ever since I first met him at Elena's, I was afraid of him. He just incited this deep, instinctual fear inside me that I've never felt for someone before that I can remember. Not even my father." _Or even those faceless lapis lazuli eyes._ "It was especially prominent when he was _human_ and _I_ was a vampire, he just had this way of draining all the fight from me. Just the weight of his gaze, but it wasn't enough for him." He rose his head and looked at the dirty-blond, "He told me in the shed it was easy to be able to beat someone down, satisfying on a primal level, but only for a moment, but to break someone down, stripe them layer by layer and watch them fall apart by their own imaginings was cerebral. With just few sentences he could obliterate all the work I had done to get myself into a good place, all I had done to move passed Katherine, the Ripper, coming to terms with my decision to stay in Mystic Falls when it would have been better if I'd left instead—even more effective than the dreams Katherine gave me. He tore through it all like it was a wall of tissue paper instead of a reinforced bank vault." Stefan shook his head helplessly. "I'm a 162—I shouldn't be this weak still."

"You're not weak, Stefan." Alaric told him. "You're human, just like the rest of us. It doesn't matter that you're more than a century and a half, that doesn't make you immune to trauma. He was the one that had to resort to blindsiding you and hurting you because _he_ was the one that was too weak and too scared to face you head-on.

"I once told you that you were the strongest person I know and that still holds true. After the things you've been through, what you've done, what's been done to you... you've still found a way to come back from it on top, still believe in people, see the good in things. Have faith. That makes you special, Stefan, not weak. That makes you strong."

"I'm not going to say it," Stefan whispered, a wry quark to the corner of his mouth.

"Good, because I love you and that's not going to change." Alaric leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth. "I was going to go make breakfast, well—I guess it's lunch now," he mused with a glance at the clock.

"Bacon?" Stefan inquired coyly, his fingers fluttered down Alaric's arm.

Alaric chuckled. "I supposed that could be on the table,"

" _Real bacon?_ " Stefan wondered further, biting his bottom lip as he plucked at the hem of Alaric's shirt.

 _That_ caused the vampire pause, the phrase was linked to the first time that Alaric ever feed from Stefan, the brunette having used it as a metaphor for blood straight from the vein. His blue gaze flickered to the feeding mark still present on the right side of Stefan's neck from last night. "I don't think that’s a good idea. I fed from you not 6 hours ago, Stef. You should be having **actual** bacon right now."

"We can both have bacon," Stefan challenged, pushing Alaric back onto the bed and quickly straddling him. He ground his ass down against the vampire's crotch, causing the vampire to inhale sharply, his hands automatically going to Stefan's hips. Almost immediately he felt the previously flaccid member grow stiff underneath him at the attention. "There are all kinds of bacon we can have, Ric. Real bacon, actual bacon... sex bacon." He continued to rub against the man, his own flannel crotch starting to tent. He pushed his hands under the cotton hem, caressing up the firm, hairy stomach beneath him.

"Mm," the sound helplessly left the vampire as Stefan's thumbs brushed over his nipples, teasing the sensitive pebbles. Stefan ran his hands back down, fingers curling around the waistband of Alaric's sweats and boxers. He pulled down as he shifted back, Alaric's erection bobbing free.

"Stefan," Alaric shuddered at the feel of the warm hand wrapping around his member, his hips rising from the bed. Stefan bent forward, the tip of his tongue picking up the pearl of precum from the slit before his lips wrapped around the mushroom head. Alaric groaned, the heat of Stefan's mouth fantastic around his cock as his hand pumped the base. He couldn't help but thrust his hips, cock delving deeper into the warmth. He watched, head lifted, chin on his chest as Stefan let him, cock slowly and enticingly pushing in and out of his mouth, shiny with saliva. Stefan just looked so sexy, beautiful, and _his_ ; his hooded eyes, green eyes dark with arousal, saliva at the corners of his mouth, cheeks flushed and Alaric just wanted to ravage the brunette.

Alaric sat up, forcing Stefan to release him. He took the teen by the shoulders and flipped them in a blur and put Stefan beneath him on the bed. The band to his sweats came back up his thighs and under his penis. Alaric pulled off Stefan's flannels, finally freeing his throbbing erection from the tented material, leaving the brunette completely naked beneath him. He palmed down Stefan's thighs and lifted his legs to press delightfully against him. Alaric rutted against him, hard and fast, Stefan cock trapped between their bellies.

Stefan panted, arm reaching up to fist in Alaric’s hair and pulled the Vampire down on top of him, the dirty-blond's thrusting cock shifting down to slide between his crack, stimulating his rim as his other hand fisted the back of his shirt. They kissed for a moment before Stefan turned his head to the side and tugged Alaric's down against his neck.

"Bite me." Stefan said breathlessly.

Alaric's nose brushed the perimeter of his previous feeding mark. His mouth opened with ready fangs and he sunk them into flushed skin, overlapping a bit of the old one. Stefan exhaled in relief, fingers flexing in the dirty-blond strands. His gaze was hooded as his stared unfocussed as his bookshelf, letting the pleasure swirl around inside him. Alaric's thrusts became stilted as he became distracted by the blood, but Stefan undulated his hips, rubbing himself between them while clenching his buttocks around the other's shaft.

When Stefan came it was with a lethargic, hushed sound, covering both their bellies. It was the warmth of his semen, along with the reflexive muscle spasm around Alaric's cock that triggered the vampire, coating Stefan, the come dribbling between his cheeks and over his pucker. Alaric released his throat with a groan, the wound weeping. The vampire leaned up and mouthed a trail down Stefan’s chest with bloodied lips. He licked the still warm come smeared on Stefan's abs, before he shifted down further.

"Ric."

Spreading Stefan's cheeks, with a long, single draw of his tongue, Alaric licked from pucker to balls, collecting his own come on his tongue before shifting back up the brunette. Stefan cupped the nape of his neck and hummed pleasantly as he sucked on Alaric's tongue, swallowing his come. Stefan pulled his weight comfortingly on top of him as they kissed slowly and open-mouthed. Stefan almost wanted to fall asleep again; he was relaxed and sated and comfortable. Alaric broke the kiss, head on the pillow, he rested his forehead against Stefan's left temple, fingertips stroking down his right.

"My perspective on bacon has definitely been altered," Alaric murmured.

Stefan chuffed with laughter, fingers absently massaging the man's scalp as he stared up into the darkened beamed ceiling. The curtains on the windows blocked the noon sun well, but there was a rectangle of sunlight coming out the en suite door, a natural lamp to lighten the darkness. "You are still going to cook me bacon?"

Breath puffed against Stefan’s cheek in amusement. "Maybe I'll even put on the apron," Alaric breathed huskily into his ear, eliciting a shiver in response. "But you know that means..."

"Breakfast in bed?" Stefan suggest.

"Not even close." Alaric kissed him on the cheek and sat up. He pulled off his wrinkled and stretch shirt, some of Stefan's semen dried on the material and flaking in his belly hair. "But it will be worth it, I promise." He straddled the brunette for a moment before he shifted from the bed to his feet. Stefan just turned his head and watched as with the flick of his wrist, Alaric had his sweats and boxers pooled at his ankles before kicking them away, leaving him as stark as Stefan, naught but a rose tattoo and two gaudy supernatural rings between them. Alaric proffered his hand to Stefan, the other propped on his naked hip. "Well, you just gonna leaving me hanging?" he waggled his brows.

Stefan snorted but he reached up and Alaric to pull him to his feet, faint smears of blood left on his pillow case. He was almost punch-drunk with his lack of sleep, post coital orgasm, and blood loss. It was a thoughtless zone, a pleasing one. One he was sure that wasn't going to last long but decided that he was sure going to lean into it while it did. So, it was after a lazy shower with slow kisses and Stefan letting Alaric do most of the work, that the couple stood in front of the sink; hair damp and towels wrapped around their waists.

Stefan propped himself bonelessly against the edge of the sink, a basic first aid kit open on his right on the counter. His green eyes were hooded as he watched Alaric through the reflection of the mirror, its corners slightly fogged from their shower. Alaric was gentle but being thorough, careful not to pull off the scabs that had formed over his individual teeth marks before they were ready. There was nothing in supernatural history as Stefan knew it that pointed towards a vampire's saliva ever leading to the infection of a feeding bite left unhealed by blood, but any wound not properly tended could lead to infection—so Alaric thought it better safe than sorry and the last thing Stefan needed was to come down with a fever at this current juncture. It would make his stand all that more arduous.

Alaric had gently washed away the traces of blood in the shower, but was going over it properly with a disinfectant swab.

After having fed, slept, and anxiety leaving him now that he had Stefan safe home again, he realized now that it was not with a sound mind that he had fed from Stefan **twice** and from the same artery, but it had been because of emotion that it needed to be done. Alaric had to pause for a moment as he reached where the two bites intersected each other, his fury boiling up inside him again... He hated the thought of John Gilbert having bit and fed from him just as much as Stefan did, so he couldn't really regret as much as he might and he needed to erase it from the memory of Stefan’s healed skin. He let out a slow exhale and continued cleaning the wounds after getting a clean swab, the other irregularly bent. There was that small part of him that he didn't quite like that he felt smug about marking Stefan like this, that same part that felt superior over Damon when Stefan drank his blood instead of his brother's.

With a furrow of concentration between his brows and a slight frown at the corner of his mouth, Alaric's gaze flickered up to take in Stefan's profile before going back to task. There were no signs of stress in the brunette's young face at the moment, nor any classic signatures of pain or discomfort, but there was a glaze to his eyes. Not quite a zone out in haunting memories of Gilbert or trapped in the memory of 'killing' Bonnie; but one made of lethargy.

"Are you sure you don't want blood?" Alaric questioned quietly, after he discarded the used swab.

"No blood." Stefan told him. There was no pause or hesitation, his green eyes clear and focused as he turned to look at the dirty-blond next to him. "I'm keeping the bites."

Despite himself, Alaric started to say, "Damon--"

"What happens between _us_ ," Stefan said sharply, "Is none of Damon's business. And what I do with my body is _my_ choice. No more blood," he continued with less tart but not lest firm. "What I said in the hospital stands."

Alaric looked at him for a moment before he nodded. "Alright," he said quietly. The pad of his thumb brushed down the side of his neck alongside the bite marks and the rigidness deflated from Stefan's shoulders.

Stefan took his hand and squeezed it. "Thank you."

They went back into the bedroom to dress, Stefan opening the curtains properly to let the sun brighten his room and dissuade any feelings of being in a dim shed. He was just finished putting his vervained filled belt on (even though he knew he couldn't be compelled and John was dead, he still felt comforted by it, like a harness instead of a regular seatbelt) and looked up to see Alaric pulling the zipper halfway up on his hoodie over a t-shirt.

"I'm going to go get started on that bacon." Alaric said.

Stefan nodded. "I'll be down in a sec, I'm just going to feed Salvatore."

"Alright." Alaric left.

Stefan pulled off a plaid flannel shirt from a hanger in his wardrobe before he closed the doors and walked over to the bureau. "Hey, buddy." He greeted the comet goldfish. "Sorry I ignored you last night. Just a little more ex-girlfriend trouble." He sprinkled some fish flakes into the water, Salvatore darting around to eat them as they leisurely sunk. He watched the fish as he folded his shirt collar down, leaving a few buttons undone at the top so it rested comfortably against his neck instead of rubbing at the feeding bites. This dress choice was probably a half-subconscious move to obscure the marks, hiding most of the second bite from immediate view, in a bid for his future confrontation with Damon when he returned. Finally, he turned from the fish and left his room, folding his sleeves up his forearms to rest below his elbows.

He paused at the top of the stairs, able to scent faint traces of frying bacon wafting from downstairs, his mouth salivating and stomach waking up at the enticing scent. But he temporarily ignored the hunger and turned his focus down the dim hallway, gazing toward where Damon's bedroom lay currently unoccupied and bit his lip in both consideration and temptation. Damon had taken John's Gilbert ring before he had killed and turned the man, putting him in a hole; that ring was somewhere hidden in his brother's bedroom—not where it belonged. That ring was Elena's now by right, a family heirloom. Though it would not work on her as a doppelganger, perhaps she would give it to Jeremy, a secret safeguard against a supernatural world and its dangers that had been compelled from him.

Unbidden, he turned his back on the alluring scent of bacon and moved down the hall. He came to a stop in front of his brother's closed bedroom door. Hand on the brass knob, Stefan turned it and pushed the door but did not step over the threshold. His hands fisted for a moment as he stared into the dim, unoccupied room, his jaw clenched before he exhaled slowly in a steady stream, his tightened fists loosening, fingers relaxing.

Going into Damon's room, tearing through his brother's belongings (just like Damon would have done) to search for the Gilbert ring he wasn't probable to find, was a strong urge; a way to rid himself of some volatile feelings towards the vampire along the way in a destructive yet unviolent manner. However, in its deceivingly inconsequential aspect, the true ramifications from his brother just weren't worth the momentary satisfaction of it. So, he briefly stepped over the threshold and grabbed the knob to close the door again and go down to the kitchen to eat the bacon he was craving that his boyfriend made, only to stop short as he turned, coming face-to-face with his brother.

He drawled, "Find what you were looking for?"

"It's not what it looks like," Stefan started.

"Oh?" Damon raised a brow. "Then what could it be, Shady Stefan?"

Stefan released the doorknob and scoffed. " _I'm_ the shady one?" Damon continued to stare at his brother silently. "Did you stay at Andie's or is some report of drained bodies going to turn up?"

"Don't worry, brother. They're alive enough not to remember." He smirked at the brunette's glower. "They're not going to remember how they got _their_ lovebites." His gaze flickered to Stefan's neck where he could see a feeding mark coming up from behind his shirt collar. "I'm not the only one who had their fun this morning, hmm?" Stefan licking his dry lips was the only response he got. He reached passed the teen and pushed open his bedroom door. Damon stepped forward, an intimidation tactic, but Stefan refused to move back passed the bedroom threshold, leaving them chest-to-chest. But Damon just smirked in response as Stefan stared defiantly back. He slowly reached up and Stefan involuntarily gulped when his brother pulled his open collar down, revealing the _two_ intersecting feeding marks; his blue eyes flashed but he was otherwise aloof. "My, you've been busy, baby brother." There was a hint of steel in the wry murmur. He pressed finger against the scabbed wound; Stefan's eyelids flickered, not quite a flinch as the memory of John's hand around his throat, thumb digging into the unwanted feeding bite the right side of his neck assailed him for a second, his heart skipping. "Mm." Damon watched him for a moment before he lowered his hand and flattened in on Stefan's chest, feeling the slightly raised heart rate as well as able to hear it. "Let's talk, Stefan." He pressed against Stefan's chest, forcing the brunette back one step, two, over the threshold and into his dim bedroom. He shut the door behind with a flick of his foot.

"Fine. You want to talk, actually talk this time?" Stefan returned. "Why don't we start with John Gilbert's ring. I know you kept it, no doubt some sort of trophy."

Damon chuckled. "How long have you had that one in the barrel, ready to go?"

Stefan turned, his gaze following his brother as he walked to his closet and shed his leather jacket to hang on a hook inside the door. "John had a lot to say."

"I bet that weasel did." Damon unbuttoned his shirt. "You could hardly get the guy to shut up. That's all he ever did, talk. Meaningless words." He discarded his shirt in the hamper just inside his open bathroom.

Stefan clenched his hands to prevent himself from either reaching to his throat or his thigh at the phantom pains of just how untrue that was. "Then I believe you gave him just the means to put bite into his bark, brother." He said through clenched teeth.

There was only a brief hitch in the vampire's stride to show that touched a nerve on his way to his chest of drawers. He pulled on a clean, slate grey, v-neck t-shirt on overhead. His sharp gaze looked over Stefan. "Not much of a bite and I bet you made him regret what nibbles he did try to take."

"You--!" Stefan cut himself off with a sharp breath, nails digging into his palms. He said through gritted teeth instead, "Where's the ring, Damon. It doesn't belong to you, it's Elena's now."

Damon appeared slightly amused at his return of the matter. He poured some bourbon into a tumbler from where a bottle and a couple glasses sat on a tray on top the chest of drawers. "And who said I didn't give it to her this morning?" he challenged.

Stefan stiffened. "Why did you see Elena?"

"Taking care of Uncle Good-Riddance," he rolled his eyes at his brother's tone. "For whatever reason, she wanted him buried—for Jenna and Jeremy to be able to mourn the bastard. Cue me, on the outskirts of town making his death look legit. Here's to a fatal car crash, head-on into a tree, broken branch through the windshield and into his chest, empty bottles of whiskey in the footwell and an appropriate amount of fire." He held up his glass in toast and drained the bourbon in a large swallow. "Anything else on your mind?"

"Yeah." Stefan stepped forward. "How they hell could you think that turning John was a good idea? What did you think would happen, Damon? You turn him into the very thing that he hated and feared most, and what," he threw up a hand, "His entire belief system would just do a 360 flip and change sides?"

"Worked with your boyfriend." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Ric fell in love with me, John grew up despising vampires." Stefan contradicted. "All you did was fuel his need for revenge and give him the power to help see it done."

"Do you think I give a shit about that douchebag?" Damon growled, refilling his tumbler. "He was in league with Katherine! He shot you up with vervain and handed you over to her. He was lucky all I had time to do was turn him."

"You painted a big, bloody bull's eye between my shoulders and didn't even think to give me some semblance of a warning!" Stefan shouted. "You knew he was alive, you knew he was out there! I know you're not stupid enough to think he'd just go away and stay away, accept being a vampire!" he shoved his brother's shoulder in helpless anger, sloshing his bourbon. "You should have told me, then I would have known I wasn't just being paranoid and none of this would have happened!" he turned from his brother, unshed tears of frustration glistening in his eyes.

Damon set down his glass back on the tray and quickly stepped forward. He grabbed Stefan's shoulder and pushed him back against the thick wood post of his bed. "You knew someone was following you?"

"Get off me!" Stefan spat, one hand wrapped around Damon's wrist against his chest, the other shoving at the strong shoulder. "I asked you if there was a reason to stay, to not go. You said no, but you knew he was out there! He'd been following me, watching me. He compelled Elena to tell him everything. You knew and you should have told me, Damon!" he roared and managed to tear free from his brother's hold.

"You knew someone had been following you and you didn't say anything?" Damon asked furiously through gritted teeth, veins threatening under his eyes.

"You don't get to turn this around on me." Stefan seethed. "What happened was because of you! What I said in the hospital still stands. I'm not taking blood any more."

Damon scoffed. "The hell you aren't!"

"I've said all I wanted to say." He turned for the door.

Damon blurred in front of his brother, back to the door, blocking his path. "We're not finished, brother."

"I was just kidnapped and you're refusing to let me leave?" Stefan demanded incredulously.

"Shut up." Damon stayed his place. "You can hate me, you can blame me, all you want. But you're still going to drink the blood, Stefan."

"And I told you, no." Stefan returned severely. "This is **my life, my body** —and I'm going to live in it and with it how **I** choose to, Damon. You're my brother, not Giuseppe; you're supposed to support me, not control me."

"I've lost you once already, Stefan. I'm not willing take the chance of that happening again." Damon returned. "Maybe it will work, maybe it won't, but as long as you keep drinking the blood, then there might be some chance that if something like this happens and I'm not there... that you might come back again as a vampire—so, yes, you're damn well going to keep drinking it!"

Stefan made a sound of pure frustration and he paced away from his brother, hands going into his combed hair, messing it. Damon's heartfelt outburst had weakened his resolve on the matter—temporarily. That's what this whole thing was about, always trying to make everyone else happy even though it didn't make _him_ happy. "I can't think about that, I can't let that fear control how I live. It's making me miserable." He leaned against a hand on the chest of drawers and drained the tumbler. It was hard going down. He didn't have anything in his stomach, he was exhausted and no doubt anaemic right now; it hit his blood fast, dulling him. The hand turned into a forearm. He bowed his head. "I've just been waiting and waiting for the other shoe to drop and I let it get turned into an anvil," he whispered, but Damon heard him all the same as if he'd shouted it. "You told me to live and I've tried it your way—well, now I want to try it mine." He rose his head and looked through the dimness at his brother. " _I need to._ "

Damon regarded him silently for several long minutes, nothing in his expression or eyes giving a hint to what he was thinking or feeling. Stefan didn't look away, putting the empty tumbler down and straightening to face his big brother. Finally, Damon stepped aside and silently pulled open the door, releasing him. Stefan swallowed and watched his brother as he slowly walked forward. Damon didn't stop him as he crossed the threshold. When he turned back to say-- he didn't know what, something, the bedroom door was already closed. Stefan sighed softy and went back down the hall to the stairs, fixing his collar and combing his fingers through his hair to straighten the mussed strands.

The smell of bacon and other cooked food was stronger downstairs, wafting out the open kitchen door and down the hall to greet him at the bottom of the stairs. It set his stomach gurgling and soon food was the foremost on the list of tasks to complete and not to forget about the coffee; he could smell that, too, making him pick up his tired pace.

He stepped into the kitchen, the island cluttered with a sundry of plated food, frying pans crowding the stove to keep other foods warm while they waited to be consumed, some still cooking food.

Alaric looked over from where he stood in front of the stove, apron and all, flipping a pan of pancakes. "Everything alright?"

Stefan nodded. "You've been busy."

"Ah," he looked a little embarrassed. "Just something to occupy me while you and Damon talked—and to help stop me from eavesdropping." He turned off the burner flame and crossed over to the counter and poured a mug of fresh, hot coffee. He turned and offered it to Stefan.

Stefan stepped forward and took it. "I love you." He took his first drink of coffee in the last 24 hours with a happy sigh. "Thank you."

"Come on," Alaric smiled. "Drink your coffee and eat some of this before it all goes cold." He pecked him on the lips before returning to the stove. "Fresh pancakes?"

"Yes, please! I'm starving." Stefan claimed a stool at the island and cleared a small space for himself as he drank his coffee and Alaric set a short stack in front of him. Along with pancakes and syrup, there was a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, breakfast sausage, buttered toast with marmalade, and hash browns. His first plate was dedicated to buttered pancakes with a layer of bacon between each pattyy and a thin coating of rich maple syrup. A side saucer with eggs, sausage and hash; and still-warm toast to round it all off. He was going to put himself into a food coma but it was all just so good and his body could use the rest.

"You weren't kidding," Alaric said. He was leaned back against the counter by the stove, holding his own plate of eggs, bacon, and hash in front of him as he ate, watching the brunette.

"I never am when it comes to hunger." Stefan put down his fork and knife to get up and refill his coffee mug, but before he sat and resumed eating, he crouched down and reached into a cupboard in the island.

Alaric raised a brow as he saw the already tucked into rum bottle. "Should I be concerned?"

Stefan screwed the cap back on after pouring some into his mug. "Alcohol therapy. It's..." he looked at the clock on the microwave, "Almost 2 o'clock here, I have plenty of food on my stomach, and it's not a habit but needed right now." He lifted his cup in salute and took a drink before returning to his food.

"As long as you don't get drunk."

"I haven't been properly drunk in years," Stefan said. "Something to look into now that I'm human."

"Don't make me admonish you and feel old in the process." Alaric teased.

"But you're just a young-thing, aren't you?" Stefan winked at him with a smirk before he drank.

Alaric chuckled lightly with a short shake of the head. "While I have you in _high-spirits_..." he put his plate down.

"And this is me topping off," Stefan unscrewed the cap from the bottle, filling the missing space in his mug with alcohol. "I need to get drunk to get behind that pun."

"Elena and Bonnie are heading over."

Stefan sighed and drank his coffee. "It's like you want me to get drunk." He pulled over the bacon plate and claimed the last few pieces.

Alaric walked around the island to stand behind Stefan. He squeezed his shoulders. "Eat and drink, it'll be fine." He assured. He pulled aside Stefan's collar and pressed butterfly kisses to the bites on his neck.

Stefan sighed and closed his eyes. He leaned back against Alaric as he ate his bacon. "I can't decide if I love you more or this bacon right now."

Alaric's hand pushed into his open shirt. "Me." He breathed against Stefan’s skin.

Stefan shivered. "You definitely last longer," he agreed, finishing the last piece of bacon. Blindly, he found a paper napkin and wiped his fingers clean. He palmed the back of Alaric’s head, fingers pushed into his dirty-blond hair. Stefan turned his head and found his lips. They both groaned contently into the kiss. "Definitely you," Stefan whispered against his lips after they broke the kiss but didn't part far; Stefan still holding his head, Alaric still wrapped around him.

"Glad I could convince you."

"I already was but just wanted you to persuade me anyway."

"And that's something I'm also glad to do." Alaric gave him a chaste kiss. "You finished eating?" he finally straightened.

"Eating? Yes. Drinking, no."

The remaining pancakes were wrapped and put into the freezer. The eggs, sausage, and hash were put into a container in the fridge. The dishes went into the dishwasher, the pans in the sink to soak. Stefan was just topping off his and Alaric's fresh cups of coffee with rum when the vampire reported the arrival of the teenage girls, so the brunette got 2 more clean mugs for coffee and topped those off with the remains of the rum—they were all going to need it.

Stefan took their cups, while Alaric took his and drank his own. They encountered the teenagers in the entrance hall. The three paused and scoured each other for a moment before pressing play again. He wasn't the only one who looked like they lacked sleep.

"Hey, Stefan." They murmured a greeting.

"Coffee, ladies?" Stefan held out their respective mugs.

"Thanks, Stefan." Bonnie took hers with a grateful smile, wrapping both hands around it like seeking the warmth out in the cold.

"Yes, please!" Elena took hers eagerly, taking a drink, her eyes slipping closed briefly. "Mm!" her eyes widened as she tasted the rum.

"With a special ingredient." Stefan added with a smile.

Bonnie raised her eyebrows and sniffed her coffee. "Isn't it a little early for that?"

"If you don't want yours..." Elena reached for her best-friend's mug.

"I didn't say that." Bonnie moved her coffee out of reach and pushed Elena's hand away. She sipped it to their amusement.

"Good call, Stefan." Elena told him.

"I thought so." Stefan took his mug from Alaric and took a drink. "Did you eat before you came? I can make something if you're hungry," he offered.

"Thanks, but we ate a couple hours ago." Bonnie said. "Grams' Cheesy Baked Macaroni Casserole." She sighed happily at just the memory. "You should try some next time, Stefan."

"Yes." Stefan agreed seriously. "Text me next time and I will literally jump in the car and drive over there. Swear, Bonnie Bennett," Stefan held up his right hand, pinkie finger proffered. "Don't tease me about food."

Bonnie chuckled lightly, but switched the mug to her left hand and locked pinkies with the brunette. "I swear." They pumped hands and shared a smile. "And I know Grams would love to see you, too, particularly if there isn't some crises involved."

"I would like that." He just wondered if it would actually happen.

They went into the parlor and Stefan found himself sitting between Bonnie and Elena on the couch, something he didn't mind. It was reassuring to have them on either side of him, to feel their body heat, the occasional brush of the shoulder as they breathed.

Stefan put a warm hand on Elena's forearm. "Damon said that he saw you this morning."

Elena gulped and nodded, taking a draw off her fast dwindling special coffee. "Who do you call if you need to obscure the fact that your pretty much evil father-uncle, is actually a vampire so the authorities can find his body and rule it an accident so your family, who doesn't know the actual truth, can mourn him?" she gave a mirthless laugh. "It was a question I didn't even know I'd have to ask, let alone actually find out the answer to. The answer your looking for is a 170 year old vampire, by the way." She drained the rest of her coffee, clearly wishing for something stronger than a dollop of rum in her coffee. "Who knew?" Stefan wrapped his arm around her slim shoulders and pulled her against his side. He locked eyes with Alaric, and nodded his chin to the sideboard. The vampire clearly got the message and stood from his chair. He came back to the couch with a decanter, and filled the empty mug with bourbon. Elena gave him an awkward but grateful twist of the lips and took a gulp, coughing a little at the burn. There were unshed tears in her eyes but it didn't take a lot to know they weren't completely to do with the bourbon. "I'm sure Jenna will be getting a call from Sherriff Forbes in the next couple days." She sniffed and wiped at her eyes with cuff of her long-sleeve, refusing to make more of a fool of herself. "I'm fine. I'm okay. It's so stupid." She took a gulp of bourbon.

"It's not stupid, 'Lena." Bonnie reached across Stefan and squeezed her knee. "You know how this works." She reminded softly, the weariness in her eyes saying this wasn't the first time this conversation had gone down.

"It's not the same!" she protested, rapidly shaking her head. "John Gilbert was not my father. Grayson Gilbert was. He loved me and he raised me. He chose me. John Gilbert was my distant uncle who I barely saw growing up, who I barely knew and didn't want to know. He was the man who thought he had ownership over my life and my choices, the stranger who tried killed my friends, the people I love. **He was not my father**!" she felt emotionally drained after her tirade and slumped against Stefan; the tears she'd tried to wipe away betraying her also.

Stefan had already abandoned his own mug. His arm hugged her to his chest, his other hand cupped her head, thankfully she was sniffling against his left side. He rubbed her arm and whispered into his hair, fighting the lump in his own throat. Perhaps it was better that she never found out that John had compelled her for information. He just hoped Damon would keep his mouth shut.

Finally, Elena raised her head, leaving his shirt collar damp and wiped at her tear stained face with her sleeve cuff, wiping off the makeup in an attempt to mask her pale olive-toned skin and bruised eyes from a night of fitful sleep and nightmares. "So, how was your night?" she joked wryly.

"About the same as yours, I suspect." He mused, thumb stroking her cheek. She stayed curled against his side, her knees drawn up and nursed her cup of bourbon. Stefan looked over to Bonnie and took her hand, interlacing her fingers. "How are you, Bonnie?" he whispered. His gaze involuntarily flickered to her neck; he swallowed and licked his parched lips.

Bonnie squeezed his hand. "I'm okay, Stefan." Her own gazer glanced down at his neck and the feeding bites on his throat that were now barely obscured from Elena's earlier treatment. "It's not my neck that's the interesting one," she teased and he reluctantly gave her a small smile. "So, Damon made it home and you're both unscathed." Bonnie noted. "I'll take that to mean you two talked at the very least?"

"And with minimal violence." He added in good-humour. "I told him that my resolve to not drink vampire blood regularly stands. I know he's not happy with my decision, but this is what I want." He sighed quietly and looked at her earnestly. "After what happened yesterday--"

Bonnie shook her head. "It's okay, Stefan. Promise." She squeezed her fingers in his, able to feel the band of the re-purposed Gilbert ring between her fingers. "The magic in the ring is good. You're ready to experiment with a no-blood life. From what I was able to gauge before the whole mess—though it would be in no way accurate for such a short period before you were forced to have blood again—your body did appear to be absorbing the magic from the ring at a reasonable rate. I understand why you want to do this, Stefan." She cautioned. "But I do still believe a direct source of magic, the immediate intake of the blood with its healing properties, would be best."

Stefan wanted to counter with the fact that he felt even better when it was her magic, but that had been when his inner black hole had siphoned directly from her when she was checking his 'aura'. This was her magic, separate, blank, sitting inert in the ring waiting for his body to absorb it. Or, in relative terms, it was tofu bacon. He supposed turkey bacon would be if she directed magic straight into him, and bacon if he siphoned directly from her like that first time. It was all just the same, his body just craved magic instead of blood... this was just a more civilized way to go about his dirty, hungry deed. "Noted," he uttered. He squeezed her hand briefly before releasing her hand and leaning forward. He filled the empty space in his mug with bourbon from the decanter Alaric had left on the coffee table before sitting back with it, middle and ring finger comfortably and securely through the handle. He took a deep swallow.

Bonnie sighed silently, looking at the pair of drinking brunettes, taking a sip of her cold, rum spiked coffee. She glanced over and shared a look of momentary forbearance with Alaric; it was a temporary allowance.

"Elena and I are well on our way from buzzed to drunk," Stefan said, and with a shared smirked the two doppelgangers clinked mugs, "Am I taking this as a sign you two are staying?" he looked back and forth between the young women on either side of him. "Officially your not expected back from Doswell until tomorrow morning..." Stefan remembered back before all of this chaos really, truly started; the night he'd spent over at Elena's that didn't have to do with her safety with him guarding her through the night like some kind of gargoyle. Comforted and safe in her presence and spending the rest of the weekend with her and Bonnie; to have that companionship he had first and last felt with Lexi.

Elena was already looking across at Bonnie, her head pillowed on Stefan's chest, a puppy dog pout on her face made particularly effective by her big brown eyes, and Stefan waggled his thick brows. Bonnie gave a put-upon sigh and rolled her eyes dramatically at the pair, but a grin played at the corner of her lips.

"Oh, alright." The pair grinned, but they turned cheek-splitting as the witch continued with a wry, "As long as I don't have to be the 'designated driver'." Bonnie sent Alaric an apologetic look, accompanied with a shrug as she drained her coffee and filled her mug with bourbon before sitting back comfortably on the couch against Stefan's other side.

Alaric sighed quietly but said nothing. Guess he was on babysitting duty, watching his underage students get drunk, ready to intervene should anyone get into the danger zone of falling down stairs and breaking necks or alcohol poisoning (very aware at just how human these three were) but would not interfere otherwise (only to take some photos). It wasn't like they didn't deserve a night of drinking, he would do the same in their position. He also couldn't help but be curious as to what kind of drunk Stefan was; had the brunette ever even been hungover before?

...

Stefan groaned quietly, his brows furrowed at the throbbing in his brain, his eyes squeezed shut. _What the hell happened_? His mouth was filled with cotton and he swallowed dryly against the nauseas lump in his throat. But his head was pillowed on something soft, that moved up and down rhythmically; it helped ease the sick feeling instead of exacerbating it and he was close to dozing back off to sweet oblivion.

His brother's gleeful voice penetrated and popped that bubble—loudly, "I never thought I'd see the day!"

Three disembodied groans answered him.

"Damon, get out of my bedroom!" Elena grumbled from below, and buried her face against warm skin and soft material that smelled pleasantly like the former-vampire.

"What kind of living hell is this?" Bonnie rasped, crossing her arms over her face, blocking out the light and _Demon_ —to find that her socks had migrated from her feet to her hands. She made a pitiful sound.

"Aren't you three just the most adorable hungover teenagers in America?" Damon mocked them, voice still unnecessarily loud and gleeful for this early.

Stefan managed to peel an eyelid back, like sandpaper against his eyeball, cracking his lashes. The sun was bright through the stained windows. He uttered another groan as he managed to lift his heavy head, his headache briefly climbing and at least garner where he was. The sitting room, on the floor in a pile of couch and chair cushions—and he wasn't alone. They were in some sort of drunken doggy pile. Stefan's head pillowed on Bonnie's stomach, Elena all but curled up in his lap like a cat. Damon was somewhere behind in the wing chair. Stefan dropped his head back onto the witch's tummy, eye blissfully closing out the light again.

"Damon," Stefan said quietly, his voice thick.

"Yeah, baby bro?"

Stefan pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes still closed, and slowly licked his lips. "Fuck off, thank you."

Damon just chuckled. "An opportunity like this is just too far and between for me to miss out, Saint Stefan. You want me to screw off, you're gonna have to give me more than that."

"Damon," Bonnie uttered. Damon's brow flickered in surprise, not expecting to be addressed by the witch.

"Yes, Medusa?" Damon wondered pleasantly.

"Fuck off!" both her and Elena's (somewhat muffled) voices rang together and to the vampire's great joy, all three teens winced at the spike through their brains at the volume.

"Must you torture them?" Alaric wondered quietly as he came in a few minutes later, careful not to rattle the dishes on the tray he was carrying. He carefully set it on the skewed coffee table that had been shoved out of the way for their little hangover nest.

"Yes." Damon said without pause or hesitation. "If I know my brother, he's going to wise up and I'll never get to have this precious moment in our long brotherhood to experience this particular normal teenage drama with him again. They should be so pleased I'm not banging pots and pans right now." Pause. "That being said..."

CLAP!

There was a chorus of cries and protests, the three jolting at the sudden, sharp sound as he clapped his hand, followed by groans. Elena tumbled from Stefan’s lap but it was a soft landing. She whimpered, rubbing her eyes with curled fists. Bonnie knew her limits and stayed prone, arms still crossed over her face, she pulled her socks off her hands; the last thing she needed was her fingers smelling like feet, even if they were her own. And Stefan forced himself to sit up, dropping his hand into his lap, his green eyes hooded as they adjusted to the light. He reached out, fingers wrapping lightly around Elena's slime wrist and with a grunt, the long-haired brunette pulled herself up and slumped forward. Stefan noted in confusion that she was wearing his plaid flannel shirt, her long-sleeve missing with a black, spaghetti-strap tank on underneath; and glancing down at himself, he realized he was wearing the 'Just the Appetizer' apron all twisted—with relief, he noted he was still wearing pants. They had a case of the world's worst drunken, troll bed heads out there, particularly the girls', whose long locks were tangled and knotted.

Bonnie finally unwrapped her protective barrier of her arms from around her head and with her eyes still preciously closed, waved her arms in silent request to her two friends. Elena and Stefan each grabbed a flailing arm and managed to heaved the witch upright, who gave a long, drawn-out groan as her head swam briefly, painfully, with a swirl of nausea that she managed to keep down. She carefully cracked open her eyes. Her light makeup was smeared and Stefan reached up to pull a soft cheesy from her hair. It was a fight for Alaric to hold back the bark of laughter at the display; usually, it was Bonnie pulling a stray leaf from Stefan's hair.

"Now that you're... awake," Alaric addressed the trio. And they all turned to look toward the sound of his gentle (and amused) voice like hungover zombies. "I've got some water and Extra Strength Tylenol for you, and some nice, strong coffee for you afterward. Maybe some toast to help settle your stomachs before you're up for something proper to eat."

Elena made a distressed sound and clapped her hand over her mouth, the other pressed to her chest. There was a baited moment before the audible gulp and grimace of distaste.

"And she swallows it!" Damon cheered. "I'm both disgusted and impressed, Gilbert."

"Not my proudest moment." She agreed, lowering her hand.

Stefan gently rubbed her back. "You good?"

She hummed wordlessly in response.

"Hands out." Alaric told them. After a moment, three hands extended. The teacher put a pill in each palm, then handed them glasses of water. "The whole glass," he instructed them.

It took a couple minutes, but the pills were swallowed and the water drained. When Alaric deemed none were about to vomit, particularly Elena, he handed out coffee and a slice of toast each. And slowly, the group livened under caffeine and medication, the green tinge leaving, most of the slumped posture, and the zombie-eyes.

"How you liking your first hangover so far, baby brother?" Damon teased and Stefan briefly gave him the bird to his entertainment. "Not jonesing for some blood?"

Stefan briefly touched the right side of his neck, feeling the still present scabbing from Alaric's feeding bites. "Not happening."

"Your loss and my entertainment."

"What happened?" Elena finally wondered. She reached out and touched Stefan's apron in puzzlement, then looked down at herself wearing Stefan's flannel. "Do you want your shirt back?"

"Are you cold?" Stefan asked. "What happened to your shirt?"

"Um..." She shared blank looks with her hungover cohorts. "What happened to my shirt?" she questioned the vampires warily. "I didn't try and strip, did I? Please tell me that's not it." Elena covered her face with her hands in embarrassment.

"Now that would have been a delightful show," Damon said lasciviously. "Despite having seen it all before, it never gets old."

Alaric rolled his eyes. He put her out of her misery, "It's in the garbage, Elena."

Elena lowered her hands. "Why did you throw my shirt out?" was the indignant response with a glare of accusation towards Damon.

"Hey, hey. Easy, tiger." He held up his hands. "Not me. Her." He was elated to be able to point the finger at the witch.

"Me?" Bonnie touched her chest in surprise. She looked over at her best-friends. "I really have no idea what he's talking about, 'Lena." She held up her own hands with a shake of her head, coffee mug in one hand, partially finished toast in the other.

"At some point in the night, the three off you decided you were hungry and wanted to make something. But not just anything—smores—with the fire pit out back." Alaric supplied.

"What do you get when a drunken, untrained witch who's affluent in pyrokinesis and has the munchies?" Damon questioned in amusement, "Smouldering doppelganger!"

"Don't worry!" Alaric added quickly at the threesome’s horrified expressions. "No one was hurt, just Elena's shirt got singed. Stefan gave you his shirt--"

"Ever the gentlemen, even drunk." Damon held up his tumbler and took a kick of his breakfast. Bonnie wiped the crumbs from her fingers on her jeans.

"--and of course, safety first, he put on the apron." Alaric gave Stefan a quick smile. He refilled the glasses with water from the refrigerator purifier and gave the brunette his. "I would have sworn you three were high on something, not drunk."

"Lightweights!" Damon coughed into his hand.

"We can't all be functioning alcoholics." Bonnie deadpanned.

"Is that the worst of it, or does it go even more downhill?" Stefan drank his water.

"Depends on the definition." Alaric said and the girls groaned. "Things definitely got more entertaining after Stefan broke out the whiskey."

"Don't worry, I got lots of video and pictures." Damon grinned. "I've got _lots_ of ammo now, Bennett."

"You're lucky I'm too hungover to fry your brain right now," Bonnie replied. "As it is, if I tried, I might just end up setting you on fire." She paused for a moment before a slow smirked curved the corner of her mouth. "On second thought, I might just try anyway. It'll definitely be worth the vomit."

"Very vivid." Damon said. "Any amount of attractiveness you might of had going for you just vanished up into smoke."

"Good." Bonnie turned her attention to the teacher. "And my socks on my hands, let me guess, um—my feet were hot but my hands were cold, so..." she waved her hand, _voilà_.

"Actually..." Alaric gave her an apologetic shrug.

"Really?" she squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"At least they were your own socks," Elena pointed out the bright side, rubbing her best-friend's back.

Bonnie dropped her hand. "At least there's that."

Stefan cleared his throat and leaned forward, setting his empty glass back on the tray. "I think that's enough of the night we'll probably never remember." He climbed to his feet with a quiet grunt and paused for a short second at the blood rush. "There's fully equipped showers upstairs, just pick your room, and if you need clothes--"

"Actually, my bag from the trip is still in my SUV, I can just go grab that." Elena said. "Bonnie, you can borrow some of my clothes."

"Thanks, Elena."

Stefan held out his hands to the pair and they each grasped a proffered appendage and he heaved them up to their feet. He kept hold as they both froze, their equilibrium teetered with the change of elevation. "Alright?"

Elena opened her eyes. "Yeah."

"Remind me to never drink again," Bonnie deadpanned.

Stefan grimaced but admitted, "I'm only a little sorry." He gave a small smile as he looked between them. "I really am loving this hair."

Elena reached up and touched her hair with a frown. "Bed head makes you look both adorable and hot, but makes us both look homeless. It's not fair."

"I don't know," Stefan said solemnly. "You both look beautiful either way."

"Are you all going to start making out now?" Damon snarked. "Sabrina and Jenny go first."

Elena and Bonnie both rolled theirs eyes with scoffs. Stefan turned to his brother, "You're just upset because I haven't called _you_ pretty yet."

" _Au contraire_ , baby brother." Damon smirked. "You called me that plenty last night."

Stefan made a face. "Did not." He denied. He looked over at Alaric.

"Maybe not that _exact_ word." Alaric was fighting hard not to laugh at Stefan's expression.

"Remind be never to get that drunk again," Stefan deadpanned. He wasn't going to go as far as to say 'never drink again, period', he knew his own limits, but it was a close enough thing.

Elena left to get her bag from the car and she and Bonnie headed upstairs to lay claim to a couple guest bedroom showers. Excluding his, Damon's, and Zach's old bedroom, 4 bedrooms remained unoccupied. Stefan at least cleared the pillows and cushioned off the floor even if he didn't deign to put them back in their proper place.

Stefan sighed and finally turned to his boyfriend. "Don't you look the best of us." His thumb stroked across the stubble on the vampire's jaw line.

"You know, you look pretty damn cute in this apron if I do say so myself," Alaric murmured, straightening out the apron.

"Not the tacky porn scenario I was hoping for," Damon uttered with humour and pushed himself out of the wing chair. He left with his blood-ringed tumbler to the kitchen and the rest of his breakfast.

"So, how much of a fool did I actually make of myself?" Stefan asked.

"Not a fool." Alaric shook his head, his hands laid on Stefan's bare shoulders, his thumb stroking the black rose tattoo on his right shoulder. "You were free, relaxed, fun—all three of you were. It was nice to see. You're all too young to be burdened with such weight and experience--" Stefan opened his mouth to contradict him but Alaric continued with: "Yes, yes, you're really just an old pervy man in love with this hot piece of ass," Stefan chuckled and Alaric kissed him. "But the sentiment is still the same. Just don't make it a habit to get blackout drunk."

"You sure?" Stefan joked. "No nightmares, no dreams—just a migraine, something that I'm all too used to. It looks to me the end results outweigh the side effects."

"Not funny."

Stefan sighed. "Not a habit. What?" he asked quietly after a moment as Alaric continued to stare at him with haunted shadows in his blue eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Just thinking of another terrible habit you have, or at least it's starting to look like a concerning trend."

Stefan's brow wrinkled. "What is it?" he wondered warily.

"An inclination towards getting kidnapped. In the five months we've been together, you've been kidnapped and tortured **_twice_** —it's disconcerting."

Stefan stilled at that. It wasn't like he _asked_ to be kidnapped and tortured. It wasn't his fault that he appeared to be the only _sane_ one in either incident, which was saying something when it always felt like he was well _on_ his way to, or already well _into_ a mental breakdown of some sort otherwise. But it was just some horrible twist of fate (doppelganger curse), a stupid coincidence. It wasn't a pattern. He couldn't handle it if it was a pattern. Katherine was dead—John was dead—the threat was gone—they were safe now to heal and move on.

"Didn't you know it's a very fine line between love and hate?" he delivered in a nonchalant manner, his tone wry and voice even. "I guess they just provoke similar responses when forced to a breaking point.

"Stefan," Alaric chided.

Stefan scoffed. "What do you expect me to say, Ric? I didn't ask to be kidnapped or tortured. I didn't ask for Katherine to _love_ me or John to _despise_ me to such a level that they would resort to the things they did." He felt the burn of unshed tears behind his eyes and his migraine throbbed heartily at his rise in emotion. "But I guess by simply existing I did ask for those things. My entire existence is based upon that very nature." Stefan took a shuddering breath. "My life is cursed— **I'm** the fucking curse! Just look at Damon and Lexi and you, and Bonnie and Elena--"

Alaric moved his hands from his shoulders to cup his face. "Don't say that, Stefan. You know that's not true." His voice was firm, but strained with concern as he searched the pained green eyes before him. "I know right now you're angry, and you feel guilty and are even scared, but I know you know deep down those things aren't true. You're just lashing out and the easiest thing to strike is yourself, but hurting yourself hurts us, Stefan. You are not to blame, we don't blame you, Stef. We love you." He stroked his cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. "I love you."

The brunette swallowed deeply, his mouth dry. He blinked away the unshed tears. "I love you," Stefan whispered, but the way he said made it sound to the vampire like he was _sorry_. Stefan pulled his hands down. "I’m gonna grab a quick shower, feed Salvatore and be down to make something for the girls." He left the sitting room before Alaric could respond, tempted to grab the quarter bottle of whiskey from the sideboard as he passed but didn't want to worry the dirty-blond. Besides, he already knew there was a bottle of his favoured Scotch whisky in his bedroom.

Stefan closed his bedroom door, fingers silently turning the lock. He crossed the room to his reading chair and retrieved the bottle of whisky from under the end table. The seal was already broken. He twisted off the cap as he crossed over to his dresser, raising the bottle to his lips and took a deep pull of the light amber liquid. He briefly set the bottle down as he fed the fish and hung the apron over the back of his computer chair. He took the bottle with him into the en suite. He had a quick shower and shave, running gelled fingers through his wet hair. He took a long drink from the bottle before he screwed the cap back on and brushed his teeth, rinsing with mouthwash. There was still one more discussion they all needed to have and hopefully they could all put this to bed and move on. He stowed the nearly empty bottle back in its original place, dressed in a clean pair of jeans and pulled on a grey cotton tee. He grabbed the apron and headed for the kitchen.

He was glad to have beaten Bonnie and Elena to the kitchen, but even so, both Alaric and Damon were present. The former standing out of the way drinking from a glass of blood, but it was the latter that had Stefan stopping and staring.

"Am I still drunk, or are you making pancakes?" Stefan addressed.

"I'm in a mood," was Damon's only response. Shirt sleeves rolled up, Damon continued to whisk the batter in the bowl he was holding.

Stefan briefly held up his hands, a solemn gesture to not interfere, and went to the freshly brewed coffee pot. He poured a cup and claimed a stool on the other side of the counter island, content to watch his brother do one of the most domestic, normal things he'd ever seen the vampire do. Stefan's fingers had stroke Alaric's forearm reassuringly as he passed on the way. Damon had the griddle laid across the lit burners of the stove, heated and ready, sprayed with cooking spray. Hair of the dog had buried Stefan’s migraine and he enjoyed his coffee as he watched his brother. There was no doubt that Damon would have heard his mini breakdown in the sitting room, but lately, those seemed to the norm these days. Every time Stefan thought he'd found a thread of sanity and stability, something would come along a cut it with a large pair of shears.

Elena and Bonnie came in just as Damon had finished ladling the last pancake of the first batch onto the griddle, the batter sizzling pleasantly.

"Is this some sort of hangover hallucination?" Bonnie questioned at the sight of Damon cooking, he wasn't wearing the apron, so the picture wasn't quite complete but it was damn near close enough.

"Har har, Bon Bon." Damon wagged the spatula admonishingly. "Keep that up and you won't get any."

Bonnie put the back of her hand against her chin dramatically in response. "Oh, how shall I dare to continue on without Chef Damon's pancakes, I'll never know!" but she stopped making fun after that. Her headache had died down after her shower and any nausea she had with it, allowing her hunger to be known. Plus, she was damn curious to see if they were any good.

Bonnie and Elena grabbed coffee before claiming the empty stools next to Stefan.

Damon put his own creative touch to the pancakes of chocolate chips and blueberries before he flipped the raw side to the hot griddle with precision. He plated the 3 plates next to the stovetop, but before serving he picked up the waiting can, shook it shortly and pressed the nozzle.

"Order up!" Damon air dinged a bell and served the teens each a plate. They all uttered various "thank you’s", but turned to silence as they looked down at their plates. There was a depiction of a cute vampire on the pancake; blueberry eyes, a melted chocolate chip smile, and whipped cream fangs. "Problem?" he challenged the with a arched brow.

"They look edible, at least." Bonnie noted promptly, not afraid to stare the vampire down. "Shade me pleasantly surprised."

Damon grinned at her. "Oh, I make you feel pleasant, do I?"

"They look good, Damon." Elena interceded before Bonnie started to fry Damon's brain instead of Damon frying pancakes.

Stefan couldn't help but smile to himself, his head ducked and gaze focused on his plate. Stefan simply slathered his with butter while the girls used the sweet maple syrup. Alaric had made pancakes yesterday and they had been good, but pancakes were kind of Damon's thing; not that Stefan felt like being the judge of some pissing contest between the 2 vampires so he wasn't going to say anything.

"Any requests, Ricky?" Damon ladled more batter onto the griddle.

Alaric grimaced at the name, his back to the company as he rinsed out his blood glass in the sink. He hated being called Ricky and Damon knew it, but the more he reacted to it, the more Damon would use it so he didn't growl. "One without a vampire."

"Come on! Everyone loves a good vampire."

"So, these vampires on the pancakes are a shout-out to Alaric then?" Bonnie said as she cut a piece from the near perfect circle with the edge of her fork. "Seeing as he's the _good vampire_." She wanted to annoy the raven-haired vampire because she was annoyed—because damn if they weren't some of the best pancakes she'd ever had with their stupid vampire-faces!

Damon was unaffected and he smirked at the annoyance in her eyes. "You love them, Bennett, just admit it." There was a glower on her face as she folded a piece of syrup-covered, fluffy cake into her mouth instead of reply and he chuckled quietly, turning back to the stove.

"Can I have a blueberry smile, too, instead of chocolate chip, please?" Stefan requested as he finished his last bite. He had a stomach of alcohol and he could feel nice background buzz, he didn't want the sweetness of the chocolate and syrup to upset his stomach.

"Sure thing, little brother."

Alaric squeezed the crook of Stefan's neck gently, thumb stroking his nape. Stefan's sad smile was masked around his fork. Momentary happiness, that's all it ever was. All it ever could be. That stray ray of sunshine peaking through the black, billowing, fat thunderclouds as the water raged and the hail persisted, wind tearing. But that's what kept him rooted, fighting, searching for that thread. Life would cease to exist without that rain cloud, wouldn't it.

Damon presented Alaric his plate with two-sided vampire pancakes just because he could. He took Stefan's empty plate, dolled up the requested pure blueberry pancakes, but still added the whip cream fangs. He ladled the remaining batter from the bowl into the empty space on the griddle, tossing some chocolate chips in his mouth. Stefan and Alaric ate their pancakes, Bonnie and Elena were finished their serving and were working on their coffee. Damon turned off the burner flames and piled the remaining vampire-faced pancakes onto his plate, his with the added feature of a dark chocolate chip hairline at the top of the face. He turned and set his plate on the island, spreading butter on the cakes before pouring maple syrup over the top of the stack and started to eat.

Stefan licked the savoury taste of the buttered pancakes from his lips as he distractedly poke at a stray, semi-melted chocolate chip on his otherwise vacant plate with the end of the edge tine of his fork. Now or never. He set his fork down on the plate with a faint clink and straightened his shoulders as he sat back on the stool, his palms pressed against the tops of his thighs.

"How did you find me?" Stefan asked out of the blue and he got looks of confusion from all around. "When Katherine took me—and Ric—how did you find us?" Alaric slowly set his plate down, still half a pancake present, the whip cream fangs of the chocolate chip mouth smudged, and swallowed thickly at the sudden lump in his throat. He took a swallow from Stefan's lukewarm coffee to wash it down. "I know you found John and I also know," Stefan glanced briefly at Elena beside him, who was staring back a little wide-eyed, "That no matter how politely you asked him, he wouldn't tell you where I was, if he even knew. He was that determined to protect Elena, hated me too much and desperate to get Katherine out of Mystic Falls." Damon looked up, licking whip cream from the corner of his mouth. His gaze flickered over to the witch as she uncomfortably cleared her throat and rose from the stool, busily taking hers and Elena's empty plates to the sink behind. "So, how did you find me?"

"You're right, Gilbert didn't give up the goods." Damon speared two cut pieces of pancake and ate. "We got your location from the witch."

"And did you turn her, too," Stefan scorned, "Or did you kill her?"

Damon cut a narrowed look at Bonnie (someone that no one else was paying attention to), who was drying her hands on the tea towel, albeit looking a tad nervous. "Neither."

Stefan was forced to take a moment to absorb the one answer he wasn't expecting. "You let her go." He said flatly. His fists clenched in anger on his thighs, an anger directed toward Damon. First his brother turned John and let him go and kept it a secret, but now Stefan was going to have to look over his shoulder for an enemy that he had even less of a chance of killing—a witch with her powers who could get into the Boarding House without an invitation, (who had already gotten into the Boarding House and snapped Alaric's neck while Katherine messed with Stefan's head to envision his worst nightmare), at least if Damon had turned her, she would be without her magic, and they all knew witches were more powerful than vampires. No matter how delicious the pancakes were, Stefan wouldn't be able to forgive; he still wasn't over John for Christ sake!

"I made him." Bonnie announce clearly behind them.

Both doppelgangers looked at the witch with similar expressions of surprise and confusion. "I don't understand, Bon." Elena admitted.

Bonnie took a deep breath. "Lucy is my cousin."

That was a bit of a jaw-dropping announcement.

Elena couldn't help but be flabbergasted. "How are you cousins?"

"I know your little Gilbert family dynamic is a even a little too dramatic for Maury Povich," Damon snarked, "What with your daddy-uncle, uncle-daddy, brother-cousin... well, you get the picture but it typically works like--"

"Shut up, Damon." Bonnie said. She looked to the doppelgangers. "Lucy, it turns out, is the daughter of Johanna, first cousin twice removed from Pauline, niece of Sheila Bennett aka Grams... aka my cousin." She gave an awkward shrug, popping her lips. "Katherine saved her life, Lucy owed her. She just wanted to pay her debt and skip town, but all bets were off as soon as she found out she was messing with family. She took down the barrier spell on the house, gave us the address... and disappeared." She took a step forward. "Stefan, I'm really sorry, I--"

Stefan just silently shook his head, his lips pressed tightly. He remembered the staggering, overwhelming pain as Lucy fried his brain, blood coming out his ears. In a matter of seconds she had reduced him to crawling on his hands and knees, desperate and scared—to get away, to reach his dropped cell phone, his only connection to Damon—before she took that from him too. Feeling like a bug under the stiletto heel of her brown leather boot, vulnerable and exposed, unable to fight back as John grabbed a fist full of his hair, shoved his face into the sidewalk and jabbed a needle filled with vervain into his neck. Stefan just realized John Gilbert had actually kidnapped him _twice_. Lucy's chuckle was so vivid to him in this moment: ' _You think it's that easy?'_. He swallowed dryly, his palate craving the Scotch whisky in his room. He felt Alaric's palm against the nape of his neck and released a sharp exhale.

He licked his lips and looked at the witch, pushing his own issues back. "I understand, Bonnie. She's your family, of course you couldn't hurt her." He stood and hugged her. "Katherine's MO didn't seem to have changed. Creating a situation so she can step in, save the day and have another tool in her back pocket to use and manipulate. She had Emily under her thumb, too."

Damon shook his head and muttered something under his breath as he finished off his pancakes. It's was too quiet for human ears, even at the short distance. Alaric had easily heard, but Stefan knew what it was anyways: " _Fucking Bennett witches_." The brunette had no doubt that if Damon hadn't been urgently searching for him, he would have taken on the witch otherwise, no matter her connection to Bonnie.

"She won't hurt you again, Stefan." Bonnie swore. "She promised to never show her face in Mystic Falls again, she knows Damon would kill her, but if I ever needed her help, she would come." She pulled back from the embrace to look him in the face. "We can trust her, Stefan. I know we can. Lucy's like Grams, I felt it in my blood, in my magic."

Stefan stroked her thick, damp hair. "I trust you, Bonnie. I trust your judgement." He gave her a faint smile, reassuring, promising; he could feel it on his face, but it felt so empty to him. He swore to himself he wasn't thinking _I've heard that before_ , he wasn't—but he fucking was and he felt like a hypocrite. How many times had he said at one point to everyone here in the kitchen: _"I won't let him/her/them hurt you again"_ , and he'd let them down in some form or another of that notion. It was just something you said to people like ' _I'm fine'_.

Stefan turned from the witch and started clearing up, staking the remaining plates on the island, scraping the remains on Alaric's plate into the bin. He gathered up the maple syrup, blueberry carton, and canned whipped cream and turned to the fridge.

"That's it?" Damon demanded, his voice with an underlying hardness. "That's all you have to say?"

Stefan shut the refrigerator door and paused to give his brother a level stare. "Yes. Do you have something you'd like to add?" he challenged. Damon stared back but said nothing and Stefan moved onto the stove. He picked up the mixing bowl with one hand, and the fingers of his other curled around the edge of the griddle.

"Wait, Stefan!" Alaric shouted, blurred to his side in an instant.

"What?" Stefan looked over at the teacher.

Alaric glanced from Stefan's face to the griddle in his hand and back to his face, not even a shimmer of pain in his green eyes. He exhaled. "Sorry, I thought it was still hot."

Stefan put the griddle and bowl into the sink the other dishes, turning on the hot water. The skin on his palm and fingers were an angry red from the heat of the hot griddle; he barely even felt it. He quickly squirted dish soap into the stream and started to wash the breakfast dishes. He was fine, he was going to be fine; he just needed a little amber rain to see the sun again.

It was an hour later that the 2 doppelgangers and witch said their goodbyes in the front hall. Today, Friday, would have been their original return date from their 3 day trip to Kings Dominion, today was the day that Caroline, Matt, and Tyler were returning, and Monday was the start of school.

"Stefan?" Alaric wondered as the brunette started up the stairs.

Stefan didn't stop or look back. "I'm just gonna write in my journal for a bit."

Aka, he wanted to be alone, Alaric knew. The dirty-blond sighed and cut a look at the other vampire as he stepped into the parlor.

"I find it funny that you're giving me the dirty look," Damon mused. He set the decanter down and picked up his tumbler. He dropped into a chair by the cold fireplace. He'd poured a second glass that was left waiting on the sideboard for the other man. "He was fine this morning until you set him off."

Alaric just drained his tumbler in a single gulp and refilled; he dearly wished he could get drunk like he used to be able to as a human.

Stefan’s reddened fingers automatically turned the lock on the door. He did have every intention of writing in his journal, he knew he needed to get these feelings out and writing in his journal was a safe and non-judgemental way that he could do that, but as he sat in his reading chair, journal laid on his crossed knee, pen poised in his scalded hand... he just ended up sitting in silence, his other hand wrapped around the open bottle of Scotch whisky, the light amber liquid slowly diminishing as time passed.

Stefan blinked up at the beams of his ceiling and raised his head from the back of the chair. The bottle was long empty, so was the page of his journal but for the dried ink splotch from his pen point poised on the page without movement. He stowed the empty bottle back under the end table and closed his journal around the pen, wrapping the leather cord and set it back onto the end table, too. When his gaze finally focused on the old numeral clock on the shelf closest to him it was about a quarter after 2 in the afternoon; he'd been staring into space for almost 3 hours. That was not encouraging. He cleared his throat and stood, his socked foot automatically shifting on the area rug to fortify his balance. He rubbed at his dry eyes tiredly as he shuffled his way to his en suite. He used the toilet and splashed some cold water on his face at the sink. Hands braced on the edge of the sink, he stared at his dripping reflection on the mirror.

He could feel the buzz of the alcohol in the back of his brain—and felt calm. His eyes were a little red but that could easily be explained away by writing for hours and straining his eyes, rubbing them. Stefan straightened and patted his face dry with a face towel. He took the bottle of mouthwash from the shelf at the back of the sink by the toothpaste and cup that held his and Alaric's toothbrushes, and gurgled a capful. He smoothed a hand down the back of his hair as he crossed his bedroom to his door; now that he was _present_ , he registered the hunger. With his stomach sloshing with alcohol and last having eaten at 9, he knew it would be good to get something on his stomach. He was nearly down the staircase when he encountered Alaric.

"Hey," Stefan said. "I just realized what time it was and was coming down to get something to eat."

Alaric closed the 2 step distance between them, standing on the step below, he was barely a foot shorter than Stefan. He cupped Stefan's face gently, thumbs stroking under his eyes. "You were writing for a while. You doing okay?"

"Guess I got distracted." He hugged Alaric, cradling the vampire's head against his chest, laying his cheek on his crown as Alaric wrapped his arms around his waist. "Everyone's okay. Everything is going to be okay." Stefan pressed a kiss to his hair.

Alaric tipped his head back, one hand running up Stefan's back to cup his nape and slowly kissed him. It was probably suspicious that he tasted like mouthwash, but Alaric tasted like bourbon, so the taste of alcohol was all him. Alaric rested their foreheads together briefly. "Everything is going to be okay. Everyone." He gently squeezed the brunette's nape before running his hand back down, arms tightening around his waist; he lifted Stefan effortlessly. Turning on his heel on the step, he stepped off the few remaining stairs to land easily at the bottom with his passenger. He set Stefan the few inches back onto the runner on the ground floor at the bottom of the stair.

A small smile touched the corner of the brunette's lips as the teacher nuzzled his cheek briefly, before pressing a soft kiss there. Everything was okay, right? Maybe in that single instant at the bottom of the stair, Alaric's arms around his waist, his around Alaric neck…

But truly, it was far from over.

_**~ T V D ~** _

 

Stefan drained the whisky from his drinking glass before rinsing it out and setting it back of his sink. He checked his reflection as he fished the small tin from his trouser pocket. He shook a couple breath mints into his palm and tossed them back before stashing the tin back into his pocket. He walked to his closet and pulled the crisp, white dress shirt from the hanger. He slipped it on, buttoned it to the top button, tucked the tail into the waist of his trousers, and buckled the thin plain black belt. Flipping his collar up, he took the waiting tie, running the smooth material through his palm and looped it around his neck and easily pulled into a knot in the reflection of the body mirror hanging on the inside of his closet door. He flipped his collar down and straightened his tie. Finally Stefan slipped on the last piece of the ensemble, the suit jacket. He took the flask from the shelf by Salvatore and tucked it into his inside left breast pocket. He brushed out the wrinkles from the shoulders, grabbed his shades from the desk and headed downstairs.

Stefan stopped in the entrance hall as he spotted Damon, in his own suit, coming down the hall. "You don't have to come, there is literally zero reason for you to be there."

"Do you intend to drive to the cemetery drunk, Stefan?" Damon raised a mocking brow. "That's very irresponsible."

"I'm not _drunk_." And he wasn't; he'd carefully conducted his alcohol intake to keep him on a continuous buzz. He'd sworn he'd stop after the weekend when school began again, he'd tapered in the day but when he got home it was like he was a vampire again trying ease the bite of hunger with alcohol. But after today, there would be no reason to carry on like the past week because everything would be put to ground.

"Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that, little brother. I'm still driving." Damon passed him out the front door.

Stefan sighed but followed after, he wasn't irresponsible enough to _drive_ like this after all, especially now that he was human and especially now that he wasn't drinking vampire blood on the regular either. "Have it your way, but this is one funeral I can guarantee that you won't be getting laid at."

"How morbid of you, Stefan!" Damon exclaimed in the tone of someone scandalized. "Come on, why wouldn't I want to watch Uncle Crispy be lowered into the ground? It's already bringing up fond memories of our time together just thinking about it." They both got into the Camaro, the top up.

"Just mirror the emotions of the humans, alright?" Stefan buckled his seatbelt as Damon turned around in the driveway and started down the drive. He slipped on his shades. "Just try not to look too gleeful."

John's body had finally been discovered on Sunday night, but Sherriff Forbes hadn't gone to the Gilbert residence with the notification until Monday morning. They had initially found his identity by dental records and with the body's burned condition, family identification was made via the old heirloom Gilbert ring on John's right middle finger to re-replace the daylight ring he'd managed to scrounge up in his short time as bampi. It wasn't until the following Saturday that the arrangements were set.

Damon parked to the side of the laneway with other cars at the cemetery. It wasn't a large gathering, most people Stefan could name. Jenna, Jeremy, and Elena, of course. Alaric was present as Jenna's friend, Meredith, too. There were some members of the Council. Sherriff Forbes. Caroline, Matt, and Bonnie. The priest, and some people he didn't know.

"Elena, hey." Stefan murmured, a hand on the brunette’s back. The gravesite was a familiar one, this was where Elena's parents were buried and the freshly dug grave with John's casket ready to be lowered was beside them.

"Stefan." Elena turned from her three other friends, a hand on his arm. "I know being here is the last thing you want, but I'm glad you came."

"Of course I came." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his hand warm against her bare upper arm. She leaned against his side, taking comfort in his presence and the fact that John was somewhere where he couldn't hurt anyone anymore.

The priest started the funeral with a passage from the Bible in his hands, addressing those gathered around.

"Look brother," Damon hissed surreptitiously in his ear from behind, "Three in a row. It's like Candy Crush but with corpses. Wonder how many other matches you've made around this quaint little graveyard. At least a quarter of these plots were filled by you."

He rocked back on his heels and was silent through the rest of the ceremony, but it was enough because Damon was right. Stefan had been unable to save Grayson and Miranda, and he'd killed John, now here the three lie. He had over the past 128 years put several Mystic Falls resident in the plots of these grounds, including his own blood.

Stefan swallowed, his throat parched and he dearly wanted to dig out the flask from his breast pocket and take a sweet drag. If he could be drunk, he'd want it to be now.

Eyes hidden behind the shades, they were directed at John's casket, but unfocused, seeing through it. The priest's words were just an nonsensical murmur. He'd inadvertently opened a can of worms he didn't even know had existed inside himself when he demanded the final truth of how Damon and Bonnie had found him and Alaric in Katherine's fangs. Lucy was a whole new host of nightmares he'd awakened in himself when he'd rehashed his initial kidnapping, she hadn’t even on his subconscious radar until Bonnie and Damon told her that she was alive and out there. He trusted Bonnie, he did, yet— _I've heard that before._

 _'You think it's that easy?'_ he could hear her chuckle behind him and it was an effort not to tense up.

Stefan closed his eyes, shutting it out…

Lucy had him pinned to the sidewalk, her stiletto heel like a knife stabbing through his flesh. Her magic held him invisibly like a pinioned butterfly, helpless to fight back as John loomed over him, his sclera deep read, skin charred and blackened, the Gilbert ring on his finger shinning, his sharp fangs the perfect weapon to slice through his flesh--

He swallowed convulsively against the sudden influx of saliva, the instigator an abrupt rise of nausea. The last thing he needed right now was to throw up, though he supposed he could just blame it on the illness that brought him home from the trip early. He breathed steadily through his nose. He just wanted to sleep, to not dream, to not be plagued by nightmares. Katherine. Lapis lazuli eyes haunting and swallowing him. John. Lucy. Of killing Bonnie. He just wanted it to stop. He missed the angel wings and the grey eyes that made him feel safe. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had that dream.

John was dead, in the ground, the threat was gone, they were now safe to heal and move on. But right now, all Stefan could think about was the flask in his breast pocket and how it would be against his lips the first chance he got.

_[...tbc...]_

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**


	24. CHAPTER 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Includes/Spoilers/WARNING:** heavy angst, drinking, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, brotherly bonding/feels, flashback.

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Stefan blinked groggily up at his beamed ceiling for several stretched minutes before he gathered the strength to heave himself onto his elbow and reach onto his cluttered nightstand for the waiting whisky bottle. He dropped back onto the bed, the bottle to his lips and he drank the last few swallows in the bottle. It refreshed the alcohol level in his blood and cleared his head and stopped the drunk sweats. He kicked his blanket the rest of the way off and threw his legs over the side of his bed and jerked himself upright. He set the empty bottle back onto his nightstand and heaved a sigh. He glanced at his alarm clock, carding fingers through his messy hair.

"Shit," he uttered. It was after 10 and he had school, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd shown up late the past couple weeks. By all accounts, this was the one that actually mattered, this year, this graduation. That was if he could survive the fucking year, which was throwing everything at him to try and see that he didn't. Stefan was sure he was cursed to stay 17 for eternity, whether that was an a blood-sucking immortal or dead on the Other Side was at the behest of a flipped coin at this point.

No matter how much things were perceived to change, it was all just smoke and mirrors. His life had literally been on a loop for the past 146 years. Sure, there were a few twists and turns along the way but they all inevitably lead to the same place. And then he'd start his life over again. Except, there was no rinse, no refresher, no going off to start a new life—be a new him. It was just repeat, repeat, repeat.

There was only so many times a man can go through the maze of Fun House Mirrors before the broken, distorted reflections became his reality. Each a piece of his soul reflected back at him in their true appearance. Stefan had just finally reached his limit.

John may be dead and buried in the literal sense, but that didn't automatically correspond in the metaphorical. The nightmares still hadn't abated. They were just now experienced through the amber sheen of alcohol; the by product of emotion that accompanied then blurred out. That didn't mean he still didn't wake up in the morning shaking and covered in sweat, but a much needed swig from the bottle tucked down between his nightstand and bed subdued it—allowed him the ability to climb out of bed again after falling into it.

Stefan promised Alaric he wouldn't make a habit out of getting blackout drunk, no matter how appealing the concept had shortly become. That didn't mean he stopped drinking. He'd cut his regular vampire alcohol intake when he'd first become human, he no longer needed it to curb that sharp pang of ravage hunger, aware of how... sensitive he now was to the hard liquor. So, it had just been another thing he took in moderation—but now he'd almost returned to that former volume. It didn't stop the nightmares, but it _helped_. It distorted their clarity; made them jagged, disembodied, incomprehensible when he awoke. A nightcap before bed, hair of the dog in the morning. The alcohol let him sleep, it let him get up in the morning. He didn't drink at school, no matter how twitchy he became with the craving, to take a swig and gain some release, some relief from the suffocating depressing atmosphere of high school life the 17th time over. He didn't stow his flask in the Coupe's glove compartment when he did drive to school for the pure temptation of it. He didn't overindulge himself in company, simply getting blasted when he got home from school. He drank port with every dinner, though, and what he didn't finish at the table would be taken up to his room as he stared at the blank page in his journal, the ink spot growing each time. He kept breath mints in his pocket, or minty chewing gum that really helped the twitch at school.

Damon liked to call him a lightweight, especially now that he was human, but that simply wasn't true. Stefan might have barely ever drank in his first human life; Champaign during celebrations or town events, a single glass of wine at dinner, otherwise it was water, but never the hard stuff. His dad loved the hard stuff. Stefan remembered the night of the vampire culling in Mystic Falls in 1864, Giuseppe invited him into his office and Stefan didn't have the choice to say no. The man poured 2 tumblers of his expensive bourbon from view and added a little extra something called vervain in the brunette's glass. Stefan chocked on it, not because he was able to taste the vervain, but because of the bourbon. Who knew, all these decades later, how well he could hold his liquor?

Stefan lumbered to his feet, momentarily wavering as his equilibrium reasserted itself and he moved forward on steady feet. He snagged the button up shirt hanging on the knob of the balcony door and slipped in on over his wife beater, lethargically flipping the collar and smoothing it out with his fingers. He pulled on a clean pair of black jeans and was dressed and practically ready to go. A short visit to his en suite, some coffee and he'd be on his way to school.

It sounded shallow, but was the truth all the same: How you dressed, the clothing you wore, was the very first thing people judged about you, the inclination of your first impression. It was upon that first, perhaps subconscious appraisal that they continued to stack their impressions of you. As a 162 year old, Stefan had learned to live by the trends to survive, to blend in as the new guy in town; his clothes clean, in subdued, solid tones, nothing to make him stand out, his face clean and hair neat. It felt like he was just made up of each passing trend. Clothing was just another shield to hide himself away, if his clothes were neat and clean, than nothing was wrong, he wasn't spiralling.

Like measuring doses of medicine, Stefan was easily able to mask the effects of his body's physical response to the alcohol. Dress clean, coifed hair, clean shaven jaw, minty breath, and eye drops as needed. The outward appearance of 'perfection'. He'd lived his entire life by everyone else’s standards, casting himself to the whims of _their_ perception instead of his own. But wasn't life just one big game of pretend? Weren't they all just walking contradictions? Rarely did the truth of one's inside reflect on their outside shell. Stefan was not an exception, just another player.

It wasn't healthy, he never claimed it to be—it got the job done, better than anything else he'd tried up to this point. It kept him balancing on a sane level, severed the leads to a nervous breakdown. The alcohol anaesthetized his heightened emotional sensitivity, it allowed him to function on the daily.

Gaze cast down his chest as he buttoned his shirt, he walked over to his dresser first. He picked up the little container of fish food and took a pinch of flakes. "Eat up, buddy." He sprinkled the flakes onto the top of the water, his gaze shifting back to his other hand as he twisted the lid back onto the container. He put it back on the shelf next to the fishbowl, and was about to turn away and go about finishing the rest of his business, when his alcohol buzzed brain finally registered the lack of orange darting movement in the water.

He stopped and stared into the bowl of water, it eye-level on the shelf, and felt an unprovoked lump of anxiety form in his throat. He saw the hollow treasure chest and the crooked astronaut where it leaned against the side of the bowl; Salvatore must have knocked it while swimming around. But that was it, he couldn’t see the comet goldfish anywhere, just that damn torn heart adhesive still stuck to the outside of the bowl, which was starting to look more and more like an omen. It didn't make sense, the fish couldn’t just be _gone_. Stefan swallowed and with slightly shaking hands, grasped the sides of the bowl. He started to lower the bowl from the shelf and nearly dropped the entire thing as he glimpsed clearly into the top for the first time.

"Oh," he uttered faintly.

Stefan set the bowl on the top of the dresser. Salvatore was still in the bowl after all. In a blind spot of the bowl where the water level came to the neck of the rounded opening at the top, the thickest part of the glass aside from the base, floated the fish's corpse, flakes covering his decomposing body like morbid seasoning. Stefan stared, unable to look away, to blink as tears flooded his eyes and dribbled over the bottom rims and down his cheeks. His brain had trouble comprehending **how** this could have happened, the cause. He kept Salvatore's bowl clean, fed him... _I remembered to feed him, right?_ But then... he wasn't even sure what the actual day of the week it was, just that it was probably a school day because Alaric wasn't over. If he wasn't even sure what day of the week it was, how could he be sure that he'd actually fed Salvatore yesterday or the day before that, that it was actually a memory of the previous day and not a remembrance from last week or last month?

His tears dripped from his face and into the bowl, disturbing the water with its thin coating and the comet goldfish. He sucked in a sharp breath, hand to his mouth and jerked back to knock into the desk behind, choking on the sob in his throat. Had he been too drunk, one too many times to actually remember to feed the fish instead remembering a memory as the truth of that chore? It couldn't be true, but the truth was right there, stark before him, there was no misunderstanding.

Salvatore had well and truly saved his life. Alaric hadn't wanted to be with him, Elena couldn't stand him, he and Damon were at harder odds than ever. He had tried to reach out, to mend each distance and had only gotten rebuffed for the effort and he was just so _tired_. If it hadn't been for Bonnie catching him at that precise moment, reminding him of Lexi, keeping him from doing what he had intended to do straight after leaving Elena's by making her Prius a magic safe room... well. It was the clever witch's idea that brought them to the pet shop downtown, that let him find Salvatore, who hooked the cut thread and anchored the then-vampire.

It had probably all been in his head after staring into at least half a dozen bubbling tanks on the wall shelves, some with a minimum of a 100 fish, depending on the type of vertebrate and tank size, them all just blending together. But he was just desperate for something to hold onto in that moment and fixated on the comet goldfish that brushed against the glass at his presence while the others swarmed to the far side. It wasn't like stepping up to a pen where all the puppies swarmed you, jumping and licking. This meant something. Salvatore wasn't just some random fish that the pet shop staffer had scooped up from the bunch in the tank, in fact, with Stefan insistent on a particular fish in a tank with at least 50 others darting around to escape the little net, he'd actually had to net Salvatore himself after he disavowed the first 5 the staffer caught, who finally gave an aggrieved huff and thrusted the net over.

Salvatore saved his life because he was the thing that kept him holding on, got him to _stay_. It was a stupid question to wonder if that meant leaving Mystic Fall. Leaving the town he was born in, died in, reanimated in, didn't work. It was just a vicious cycle, he always ended up coming back and causing terror and pain, even when that was never in the scope in his intentions of returning.

It sounded ridiculous, finding his purpose in a comet goldfish who could only go where Stefan put him, only survive if Stefan fed him. Who couldn't verbally or physically interact with him in any conceivable way, when there were people in his life who he loved, fought for, cried over, who gave him the physical contact he desperately craved, no matter the form that came in—but the fish somehow gave him the resolve to see things through and have a hope, because Salvatore was one of those rare, thin, little rays of sun piercing through the black, billowing clouds over his existence that gave him hope, made him stay, gave him the opportunity to finally patch of the wound between he and Damon, to truly start something lasting with Ric, regain Elena's friendship and start a life worth living, with people who actually cared about him and wanted him to _stay._

And Stefan had killed that, too, just like so many other things, _people._ He stared sightless at the fishbowl and felt a terrible numbness settle in his chest. Salvatore had relied on him for everything and Stefan had him. That failure resulted in another death on his hand, more blood. Too drunk to function, unable to function unless drunk. It was the last straw. Face still wet, his eyes were dry and he stood there just listening to his breathing—and he **couldn't take it anymore**.

"I'm sorry."

He straightened from the edge of the desk and toward his balcony doors. He stepped out into the landing, blinking a moment as he eyes adjusted to the sunlight before he approached the railing. He lifted a barefoot onto the wide railing and levered himself upright, feeling a brief instance of vertigo as he looked down at the 18 foot drop below. But he ignored it, turned and easily transversed his way passed the corner of the rail despite his slight inebriation and reached the wall next to the doors. It was covered in wisteria vine, deciduous climbing bush thickly interlaced against the metal trellis against the wall. The fronds having recently grown in, the violet-blue clustered blooms starting to bud with the mid-spring season. It was a little wild and over grown from lack of required pruning after Zach had closed the Boarding House to guests and released the groundsmen when Stefan had come home back in May last year—but it something menial task that wasn't going to be on his list of future chores that needed to be tended to around the house. His future was shortly to be fixed.

Stefan dug his fingers and toes in and started to climb with one final goal in him— **get higher**.

He fingers grasped tightly around the metal edge of the gutter under the eaves of the slanted rooftop, and he heaved himself upward, feet momentarily in the air before his chest was over the edge and he kicked himself the rest of the way up. He turned and lay on his back on the hot tile, squinting into the sky and to catch his breath back. He wiped the sweat from his face with his shirtsleeve. He was feeling a bit nauseous and almost wished he grabbed a bottle to take with him. He sat up and scooted back up the slanted roof before climbing to his feet at the peak, swatting at the old dead leaves and dirt clinging to the seat of his pants. He walked along the ridge of the roof, his feet on either side, heading towards the back of the house.

He should be happy. He was back home, he had Damon back, he had Ric, Elena and Bonnie and countless others to love, who loved him back. He should be happy, but he couldn't be, not if he was here, now, doing this. Something must be wrong. _No_ , Stefan thought as he stopped at the edge of the roof, the Boarding House piazza and wood stretching out down below him, **_I'm_ **_wrong._ A brief thought filtered through his mind that he should find a better way to do this so Damon and Alaric wouldn't come home, smell the blood, blur out back and find him back in the sun on the piazza, but they'd eventually find the 2 journals tucked away in the locked drawer of his dresser under Salvatore's bowl and Stefan just didn't have it in him to double back. His fingers traced the worn spiral on the clasp of his belt, maybe he'd be able to see Lexi again, maybe the Universe would allow him that one recompense.

A smile almost touched the corner of his mouth at the thought, before he turned his gaze to the happy blue sky and simply let himself fall forward from the roof and into open air. And for those few precious seconds it took him to hit the piazza, he felt a freedom he hadn't since he was just a child, when his mother was still alive and Damon was the only other person in his life that he would need to be happy. It those last few seconds, his last breath was unburdened. In those few treasured moments, tears of grand relief pricked his eyes.

Only, at the end of those final few seconds, there wasn't release, there wasn't freedom—there was only pain across his chest like he'd landed on a crossbeam, there was his breath forced from his lungs, there was disorientation, there was bruising force that spidered across his hip, his back, his head. The ringing in his ears leaving him briefly senseless, until light and sound suddenly rushed back in, and he gasped forcefully and coughed. And Stefan was once again staring up into the same happy blue sky, safely with his back on the grass in the backyard—alive. He gave a bitter laugh, tears clouding his gaze, but not escaping his eyes. They were never going to just let him fucking die. Let him be **free _._**

Stefan felt the dull throb in his jaw, tasted blood at the corner of his mouth. He turned his head slightly to see his brother next to him, furious, fist clenched.

"You think this is funny?" Damon growled.

Stefan lips twisted into a cruel smirk. "In a sarcastic sense, yes." He slowly sat upright before he climbed to his feet with a quiet grunt, battered body stiff and aching. "Why did you stop me?"

Damon blurred to his feet, stray blades of grass cling to his clothes, grass stains marking the material. "Why?" Damon shoved him on the chest. "That's not even a question that you should have to ask me." Stefan knew the answer. Because Damon loved him, because they're brothers. But the how come the odds were 9/10 that his big brother hurt him, caused him such pain and grief? Damon had such power to hurt him, held such power to warrant his forgiveness. Even more so than Ric. "Why? That should be my question to you."

"And you shouldn't even have to ask me that question." Stefan returned as such hot anger burned in him like a painful brand, the pain just needing an exit. He lashed out at his brother. "You should already know, _brother_."

Damon stared at the brunette in a brief open moment of surprise that the teen didn't notice before his mask came back into place. It wasn't that Stefan hadn’t hit him before, just that there had been an... inhuman strength behind this hit that had exceeded the strength of anger. There was some invisible forced behind it that had lifted him from his feet, but even that wasn't the half of it. For an instant, so fast that even Damon's enhanced vampire eyesight was barely able to discern a glimpse, just like in the parlor during Christmas when Bonnie had been checking Stefan’s 'aura' as she'd been blown backward suddenly and without warning. And just like then ,Damon could only believe that it was his mind playing tricks on him. He had something more serious to deal with momentarily anyway.

He shook it off. "All this for some stupid fucking fish that apparently forgets all about you every hour and 28 minutes." Damon's lips twisted in contempt. "Not even anything actually worthwhile."

But just as fast as it came, it was gone, and Stefan was left feeling drained. The anger, the fight. He just shook his head in sad regret at his brother. "You have no idea what Salvatore represented."

"A rebel without a cause." He mocked. "You would have killed yourself over something that wasn't even real." Damon grabbed him and blurred through the house, up the stairs. In Stefan's current unprepared condition, it felt like he was dragged behind a horse. It stirred up the alcohol in his stomach, making him nauseas. Damon finally came to a stop in his room and shoved Stefan into his en suite. "April Fools, brother. You're the biggest of them all."

Stefan stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the marble counter. And he stared, his gaze caught with the golden-orange comet goldfish swishing around in Damon's plugged and filled basin. His knees gave and he hung off the edge of the counter. He stared helplessly. "This was your big idea of a joke?" he uttered tonelessly. Stefan should have realized, he should have known. He had been able to pick Salvatore out of a school of about 50 other near identical comet goldfish in the same tank; how had he not known that the dead fish floating in the fishbowl wasn't _his_ Salvatore? He swallowed against the bile in the back of his throat; he couldn't even set blame on his inebriation. He had told himself that same thing the night Katherine loopholed her way over the Boarding House threshold barrier about Elena, but the truth was that he wouldn't, couldn't.

Damon leant against the side of the open bathroom entrance, his arms crossed over his chest. "Had to get some reaction out of this drunken zombie that's been walking around for weeks masquerading as my brother."

"And what did you think of the reaction your little joke evoked, brother?" Stefan returned. "Not quite to your liking?"

"Easy, brother." Damon growled in low warning.

Stefan scoffed. "Or what?" he turned his attention back to the sink, gently lowering his fingers into the clear water. Salvatore started with a flick of his tail at the intrusion before approaching, mouthing Stefan's fingers before brushing against his forefinger's first knuckle. "Hope is just an empty construct, a hollow excuse we tell ourselves to keep hanging onto our miserable existence in this life. A worthless symbol that we make up to hide our pain in the guise of hope." He could scoop the comet goldfish into his palm, long fingers gently wrapped around the wriggling, scaled body—and **squeeze.** He could crush the thing that started it all, allowed all this to happen. Salvatore gave him hope, that hope kept him living, and living caused him such pain. And for an instant, his fingers trapped the slick body against the palm of his hand in the water, but his fingers locked and he hand shook and he couldn't fucking do it. Instead he let the tissue thin fins brush through his fingers and watched Salvatore swim around his digets. "But I've fallen for my own lie, I drank the kool-aid." He took a sudden, heaving breath, his pallid expression tingeing a little green around the edges. He yanked his hand from the water, and scrambled onto his feet over to the half-wall partition in the bathroom that housed the toilet and urinal.

His stomach spasmed and he retched, the sour taste of regurgitated alcohol flooding his mouth. He puked up the whisky that lined his stomach, but there was nothing else. He couldn't properly discern when he actually last fed Salvatore, the same was said for himself. After a few false starts, he closed the toilet lid and flushed. Stefan climbed to his feet and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He definitely felt light-headed and had the desperate urge to lay down and sleep, sleep forever—it was a larger craving in his body than even the hollowness in his stomach.

"Hair of the dog not quite working for you there?" Damon snarked but was ignored as Stefan took the empty water glass next to the basin and filled it with tap water, careful not to disturb the fish.

Stefan drained the glass thirstily, washing down the most prominent taste of bile in the back of his throat. He considered the empty glass in his hand for a moment, not to refill, his eyes flickering to Salvatore, but for a short mode of transportation from the basin back to his bedroom. In the end he set the glass back on the marble counter; he couldn't take care of Salvatore where he was going.

The vampire all but read it on his brother's face. "You're not some carbon copy of some stupid douchebag that fucked with the natural order." Damon grabbed his shoulders. "You're Stefan Salvatore, who lost his mother too soon, was raised by a shitty father, betrayed by the brother who was always supposed to love and protect him. You have your own life, your own history. You are your own man, you make your own choices."

"Every time I try to make my own choices," he sneered. "You take them away from me!"

"And what do you think killing yourself is going to accomplish, huh?" Damon challenged back, shaking his shoulders. "Tell me."

"Maybe nothing." Stefan conceded, shrugging Damon's hands off but followed it with: "Maybe every goddamn thing. That is something we don't know at this current juncture."

"You're so precious about everyone else’s life, even bastards who don't deserve it." Damon said, thinking about himself. "Why are you so cavalier about your own?" Before Stefan could think to say anything, the vampire added, "And don't give me some bullshit about being a doppelganger. You didn't know that 5 months ago."

Stefan gave a bark of laughter, Damon giving a minuscule flinch at the suddenness. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He paced shortly from the vampire in the large, open en suite, hands in his already mussed hair, making him look even more manic. "Every time I get some semblance of peace, a taste of happiness—something or someone comes along with the sole purpose of breaking that, tearing it away." He turned back, his hands flying towards his brother in gesture; he was just tired and desperate and he just wanted to be left alone, so he said sharply: "And time and again, I look and I see you!"

That tore sharply into Damon's undead heart but he masked it well. "Then I'll go." He said quietly.

"No. This time _I'm_ leaving." He tried to step around the other.

Damon stopped him with a hand on his chest and a scoff. "I don't think so, brother. I'm not letting you leave this house _or_ this life. I'll lock you in the cellar for the rest of your little mortal life, strap you to a bed and spoon feed you, then turn you at the ripe age of 80 if I have to!"

Stefan gave an incredulous laugh. "Oh, so now I'm _your_ prisoner?"

"If you want to call it that, fine." Damon shrugged.

Stefan looked at him and cocked his head. "You know, you remind me of someone we used to know. A couple, actually."

Damon briefly gritted his jaw. "You said it yourself, Stef. _'There's a fine line between love and hate.'_ Right now I am so furious with you, so angry I want to hurt you, but I love you and I need you alive. I want you alive, Stefan, and I don't know what else to do."

Stefan gave him a brilliant smile, a simile. A forgery, just like him. "You're at the breaking point, brother. There's still hope for you, there always will be. The difference between us... I'm already broken, I've been for a long time."

"No." Damon gave his head a small shake. "That's just an excuse. You're giving yourself an out. You're giving up!"

"So, what if I am?" Stefan screamed; his face hot, his chest tight. He gave Damon a short shove. "Everybody just does whatever the fuck they want, but what about me, what do I get? I get the burden, I get the consequence!" Another useless shove, no power behind it. "I'm the one that's covered in scars that nobody sees!"

"Stefan, I don't know what you want me to do." Damon said desperatly, grasping his hands. "I made a mistake, okay? I'm--"

"Sorry?" Stefan interrupted. "Only human?" He huffed in scorn. "Yeah, Ric gave me that spiel, but it's just another excuse we give ourselves, isn't it? A lie. We're flawed beings. But does it actually make you feel better? Does it help you look in the mirror in the morning? Or is that just another lie, too?"

"Christ, Stefan!" Damon shouted in utter frustration, his fist slamming onto the edge of the counter, breaking off a chunk of the grey marble. "What can I say? What do you want me to do? Perfection dose not exist. Existence is an imperfect thing. There is no good without bad. It sounds corny but it's the truth nonetheless. You can't have cotton candy and unicorns without a little shit and blood, that's how it works. We had Giuseppe as a father but we had each other. We were dealt a double-edged sword of vampirism but despite everything we still never gave up on each other." Damon grasped his face, not allowing the brunette to turn away. "I'm never going to give up on you, Stefan. I will always be there to stop you if you go too far, pick you up when you fall. I'm here," he whispered, giving Stefan a little jostle. "I'm here. I'm not running away. I'm not going anywhere, little brother."

"This has to stop, Damon." Stefan implored, resting his hands on the vampire's shoulders. "This can't be healthy, we need to just let each other go like I should have done 145 years ago. We're too destructive together."

"You want me to stop?" Damon retorted. "Go find a stake and put it in my heart. You tried it a couple times already but could never follow through," Stefan couldn't stop the flinch, he remembered both occasions vividly, "You want me to stop? That's the only way; third time's the charm and all that. What? Too grim? How about we just off ourselves together, then, huh? That'll solve everything, right?"

"Stop," Stefan uttered, reaching up and trying to pull Damon's hands away but they wouldn't budge. "That's not funny. I'm serious."

"Who's joking. Just like you said... how it should have been 145 years ago. Think of all the lives we've ruined, the pile of bodies we've left in our wake. Hitler has nothing on us, we weren't so picky. We're just a bunch of fucking monsters, with black souls and love for no one, huh?" he shook him, a slight sheen to his blue eyes. Tears glimmered in Stefan’s own as he was unable to look from his brother. "Naw, what we call love for each other is just another excuse, right, to do bad things to other people? Us, here, now... just a tease, the people in town just ants to fry with the magnifying glass. Oh, we have our favourites—those who we hold in special regard over the others so we take our time with them." He gave a cruel smirk. "That's the best part in this little sandbox of a small town. We pretend to love them, right, so they fall for us for real so when we pull off their legs they come crying to us. Isn't it fun to watch them flounder and flail? Isn't that why we keep returning home? Huh, Stefan. Let's just stop playing games with each other--"

"No." Stefan denied, his voice a croak for the frog in his throat, his pale cheeks already wet with unchecked tears. "You're wrong, that's not true. It's not true!"

"You are my brother. I love you. I'm never going to leave you, we're in this together." Damon hushed. "We'll do this together." He was practically the only thing keeping the brunette from collapsing into a heap on the bathroom floor.

"Stop!" Stefan begged, his blunted nails digging into Damon's wrists. "D-don't. I don't want you to die—I don't want to die!"

The vampire very nearly sagged in relief at the declaration, and he gave a shaky exhale. He looked at his brother. "Then what do you want, Stefan?" Damon demanded.

"I don't know," he confessed, breathing heavily. "I just can't feel this way anymore, like every breath is _crushing_ me. No matter what I do, I end up plagued with doubt and guilt at everything I do. I'm sick of it. I don't want to constantly think about it, relive it."

"You care, Stefan." Damon pointed out. "That's kind of the prime code of your being, you're just going to have to deal with that little flaw in your character. Don't worry." He patted Stefan's cheek. "We always set you straight, don't we?"

_Lexi_. She was always good at that. She'd drag him out, him protesting and dragging his heels, and he'd always end up having the best time. Take him from his little brooding nook, out of his default zone and by the end of the night he could feel the wind under his wings. Even in his most darkest depressions she had been able to get him to laugh or at the very least crack a smile. If it hadn't been for the blond vampire coming into his life when she did, staying there, Stefan would either still be the Ripper, body count in the millions and still climbing or someone would have gotten the jump on him with a stake long ago and said ' _Good Riddance_ , _Ripper.'_ She was there when Damon wasn't. _God, I miss you so much, Lex._

"If you keep doing things the same, they're never going to change, Stefan. You're just reinforcing the cycle."

"You've never thought about it?" Stefan whispered. "Just ending it; taking the ring off and stepping out into the sun?"

"Of course I have." Damon answered bluntly and Stefan couldn't help but be shocked by the answer. The brunette's grip on his wrists changed from hanging on for himself to _hanging on_ for Damon like he was afraid the vampire was going to go off and do just that. "And then your broody face would pop into my head—very annoying." He continued. "And I knew this was the line I could never cross. I couldn't leave you like that. I couldn't do that do you."

Stefan swallowed the lump in his throat. "Unlike me," he muttered.

"Ah, yes," Damon interrupted. "Here's a ribbon, you're the worst brother in the world." Stefan stared. "You act like I'm a _good_ brother in turn." Stefan opened his mouth to reply. "No, Stefan. No more excuses. You didn't deserve all the horrifying things I did to you over the last century and a half. I've never said this to you, but I should have. I'm sorry, Stefan. I was angry and jealous and I wanted you to suffer and feel my pain." His hands shifted down to the crooks of his shoulders.

Stefan gave his head a small shakes of denial. "But I did--"

"You've built this so much in your head and I know that's partly my fault." Damon explained. "It wasn't like you shoved my face into your fresh feeding bite on that girl's neck, Stefan. Yes, you enticed me with the blood and you knew how strong the craving for it was and how weak I was in that point of the transition—but **I** was the one that bit her, **I** was the one that decided to complete the transition. The guilt, anger, jealousy, and heartbreak I was feeling at the moment was amplified and I lashed out at the only target I knew who would still love and never abandon me. I took advantage of the love you had for me, Stefan, and I used it to abuse you—just like our father!"

Stefan fisted his shirt. "Don't you dare compare yourself to him. You're not like him. You took care of me, you loved me. You tried to shield me from him."

"I'm worse than that bastard." Damon countered harshly. "The things I did to you when we were vampires exceeds what he did to us as children. You were never like this when we were both human. But how many times have you tried to... end your life," it was difficult to admit the words, "Because of the things I've done to you? You never tried to kill yourself before."

Stefan involuntarily gulped in response, his heart jumping into his throat. He prayed that Damon just saw it as a typical emotional response to his words and not a reaction of guilt and shame. His brother couldn't find out what happened when Stefan was 8 after their mother had died _—_ how close he'd come.

_It was the night after her funeral... Beside himself in the first true grief of losing someone he loved, he just wanted—needed to feel close to his mother—so when the sun set and the Salvatore Household was abed for the night, he snuck out. In his hastily slipped on shoes and trousers over his cotton nightshirt, he rushed across the open grounds of the property to the edge of the wood, easily able to navigate by the half-moon in the clear night sky, stars speckling the dark navy blue blanket. The fallen leaves muffled his mad-dash to the cover of the wood, and concealed from obvious view by the trunks, finally slowed to catch his breath. It ploomed faintly from his mouth like steam. Even in the dead of night with only the skitter of small nocturnal animals as company, Stefan easily found his and Damon's favoured climbing tree. It was a willow oak, reaching up to 50 feet. While other trees’ leaves were falling, the willow oak's stayed through the fall, it an impressive range of yellow to russet-red colours like the setting sun. The branches thick and in the perfect climbing pattern. He jumped, grabbing the rough bark of the lowest branch and grunted as he hauled himself onto it. It was a slow and stead pace to the top before he balanced upon a branch that only wobbled slightly under his weight and turned his face up into the open sky, the wind ruffling his hair._

_It was one of the few interests that mother and son shared, the stars._

_When Lily wasn't bed-ridden by her illness or Stefan similarly imprison in his own bedroom, his mother would sit out on the porch as night descended, Stefan cuddled in her lap under a thick blanket. They would both gaze out into the stars above, so breath-taking, endless, and untouchable. They would dream of that freedom from their individual sickness as the chair gently rocked, Lily carding longs fingers through his brunette mop, murmuring in his ear of beautiful Italian poetry. Sometimes, they would be out there long enough that he would fall asleep snuggled in her arms, the faint scent of rose from the petals in her bath in his nose. It was one of the few connections he had with his mother, their own ritual._

_His gaze blurred as his eyes clouded with tears, them burning hot tracks down his chilled cheeks. Sorrow built painfully in his chest before forcing itself up his throat, needing to be heard and he sobbed, his cries echoing around the wood, searching for a comfort it would never find, silencing all else with its overpowering grief._

_His mother was dead, in Heaven now, an Angel. He wanted to see her again, feel her stroking his hair, her breath brushing against his ear, the warmth of her body around his, but that would only become true when **he** became an Angel, too. The only way the 8 year old knew how to do that was to die. Stefan turned his blurry gaze from the beautiful sky down toward the dark ground far below. One step and he could be in his mother's arms in an instant_ — _but then he was taken of the question of **WHAT THEN?** What about Damon? If he went to Lily, he would be leaving his big brother behind to contend with the loss of their mother and then his little brother. Damon promised to never leave him, to always be there_ — _Lily mournfully whispered pleas for forgiveness for having to leave them soon. And Stefan realized that his mother was always going to leave, but Damon never would. And he could never leave his big brother. He jolted back against the thick trunk, to the safety from the open branch, but the loose shoelace of his hastily put on shoes caught under his foot. He shrieked in fear, but a second later they became cries of pain as he crashed down through the branches, the shadow of the ground reaching up to catch him. The thud of his painful landing punctuated by nothing but a broken gasp, the sound muffled by the bed of fall leaves at the base of the tree. The few clinging dead leaves come loose and fluttered gently to the ground after him._

_There was screaming blank agony snapping through his nervous system; the blood from his skull oozing to seep through of bedding of leaves, his small body battered and broken through the fall, his leg twisted up irregularly beneath him. He couldn't cry for help, let alone vocalize the pain he was feeling; it was a painful battle just to expand his lungs, to keep pulling his eyes open from the darkness that wanted to gobble him up. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes through the blood into his ears, his fluttering gaze fluctuating from flashes of the moon and stars through the branches of the tree, to the grey haze of consuming pain that kept getting longer and longer._

_When Stefan asked, Damon always promised him they were in this life together. And the boy realized his mistake too late, he should have gone down the hall to his brother's bedroom so they could seek comfort and reassurance from each other instead of coming out here alone despite his anger at his brother for not coming to mother‘s funeral. Damon would never know and think Stefan had abandoned him instead when his absence was realized in the morning. And only a short couple minutes after the fall did his eyes stay closed._

_But when he awoke again, it was to the soft flickering light of a candle on the small table by his closed door of his bedroom, tucked warmly into his bed, the pain nothing but a blurry dream as he blinked slowly up into the ghostly, freckled face of his mother. He watched her drowsily for a moment from where she sat on the edge of his bed, her long fingers brushing through his mused mop._

_"Mom?" Stefan whispered, licking his dry lips. "Are you an Angel?"_

_"Hush, My Sweet." Her cool palm gently stroked his cheek. "Everything's going to be all right. You're safe now. It's all just a bad dream."_

_He felt tears prick his eyes and his lips trembled into a frown as he fought not to cry. "I miss you, mommy."_

_"I miss you, too. I know you're sad, but you'll always have your brother, remember that." She pressed her lips against his forehead. She gazed at him. "Now go back to sleep, Sweet Boy."_

_And seemingly against his own volition, his eyelids dragged closed, her vanishing in one instant from the next, the candle flame blowing out as a sourceless puff of air dispersed through the room, casting it back into darkness._

Thankfully, Damon seemed to interoperate his reaction as just that, and Stefan only now just seemed to realize exactly where his unwillingness to let Damon go, truly started—their mother's death. "When mom died," Stefan whispered, gaze glancing away, "I realized that you and I were all we had left, we swore we would always be there for each other. And I know I've been lacking on my side of the promise, not being there for you when I should have, sending Lexi--"

"That's in the past, Stefan." Damon interrupted, not wanting to remember back on that specific time if he didn't have to. "Didn't we promise this time was going to be different? The past is behind us, there's no reason to keep rehashing and waking up ghosts."

Stefan nodded his ascent on that—in theory, at least. It was always easier said than in practice. "I'm sorry for making you go through it again. It all just piled on top of each other and it all just became so overwhelming. I needed it to stop, I needed silence. But there was no switch to flip, so the roof was the only other option I had--"

"Those aren't your only two options, Stefan. And if you truly believe they are, then there's no point because you're going to get overwhelmed again down the line, and you're going to have to make a choice; succumb and let the fear drown you or fight to live and give yourself the chance you deserve to become happy."

Stefan couldn't help the little grin as he looked at his brother. "You know who you sound like?"

Damon's face took on a prim expression. "I dare you to say it." Stefan pursed his lips but the grin wasn't well camouflage. "First things first—gotta sober you up." He clapped him on the shoulders. "Sleep, shower, food."

"I can't remember the last time I ate. And unless you're going to give me some whiskey, I'll never get to sleep let alone stay that way." Stefan reminded him, running a hand over his face. "It's better to just skip that one altogether."

Damon turned him and pushed his brother lightly from the en suite. "I'll keep the monsters away, little brother. Promise."

"Great," Stefan uttered, heading for the door. He just woke up a few hours ago, but his body and mind where matched in exhaustion. Despite the fact that his body was immobile for hours, it didn't matter if his mind never stopped. Blackout drunk was what he really needed, that was the last dreamless, sound sleep he had that he could remember despite the migraine upon waking; but that was beside the point of this whole exercise. Drink was a terrible liquid shield he'd been using to muffle the affects of his nightmares, reality in general and had just been making things worse for himself in the long run. He'd been letting that magic-sucking black hole inside him consume him too, when, like bampies getting back out into the world, he needed to be around the heartbeats, not hide away.

"Uh-uh." Damon's scold stopped him.

"What?" Stefan stopped and turned back to him.

"You just tried to paint the back piazza with your brain matter, so let's try this again." He cocked his head to the left.

Stefan looked back at him for a minute before his gaze shifted to the right. He scoffed. "You're kidding me, right? I'm not 7 anymore!"

Damon snorted. "Don't you mean 16? It's just us, brother, no need to be coy."

He crossed his arms and raised his chin in defiance. "Father was sending you away to war, I wanted to spend as much time with you as I could before you left. And as I recall, you didn't kick me out."

Damon smirked. "Just goes to show what an understanding big brother I am."

"Uh-huh. Of course you'd find way to flip it around."

Damon rolled his eyes and pointed. "Bed, Stefan." When Stefan heaved a sigh in defeat and approached the four-poster king, the vampire turned and pulled closed the thick curtains on the windows, shutting out the high noon sun and darkening the room.

Stefan stripped from his shirt and jeans and slid under the thick covers. "What do you need a bed this size for anyway?"

"Orgies."

Stefan couldn't help the bark of laughter that delivery inspired. "Makes sense."

With a little smile Damon went over to his chest of drawers and changed from his grass-stained clothes into a pair of dorm pants and a cotton v-neck. "You ever been in an orgy, Stefan?"

"A feeding orgy, sure," he responded, "You've walked in on some in my early Ripper days, remember? But never a sex orgy."

Damon turned back around. "You should try it."

"If you haven’t realized yet, I'm in a committed relationship with someone. Ric; you might remember him?"

"Ah, that other guy who also has a boring stick up his ass." He gave a small smirk. "You two need to fucking loosen up a bit. Ever thought about having a threesome?"

"You offering?" he deadpanned.

"Even if I was, you couldn't handle me sexually, Stef."

Stefan shuddered. "Thank God." He wondered after a moment, "Why the hell did you bring it up in the first place?"

"You and Teacher haven't done the dirty in weeks, not since you first came home."

"How could you even know that?"

"Vampire, remember?" he tapped his ear. "And I'm your brother. I know." He grabbed the remote from the small stand and turned on the flat screen, casting the dark room in the flickering glow of the television. The volume low, he made his way to the other side of his bed.

"Is there a point to this uncomfortable conversation?" Stefan prompted him.

"There is." Damon put the remote on the nightstand and climbed into bed. He sat against his headboard on the covers, a pillow propped comfortably behind the small of his back, legs straight out before him and bare feet crossed at the ankle. "Oxytocin, brother. You're severely depleted right now, that much is obvious. Lack of sex drive, withdrawing from social comings and goings. You need to get laid, is what I'm saying. It definitely couldn't hurt."

"Ah," Stefan intoned, his fingers laced on his stomach over the covers. "The common misconception that oxytocin is a natural producing, all around 'love hormone' when in fact studies show that it acts more accurately as a 'social emotion amplifier'. It dials up both positive and negative emotion in turn, Damon. Just like with ecstasy, there are bad trips and good."

Damon snorted at that. "Like you've ever taken ecstasy."

"Whatever." Stefan rolled his eyes. "Sex isn't the only thing that produces oxytocin, you know. It doesn't specifically pertain to sexual intercourse, it can also be triggered by simple affectionate physical contact like hugging and--"

"What, you wanna cuddle?"

Stefan sent him a glower. "Don't mock me. I was fine where I was being a 'drunk zombie', you were the one that wanted me to 'feel' again."

"You weren't _fine_ , Stefan." Damon retorted sharply. "People who are fine don't try to kill themselves. 'Fine' out of your mouth is an avoidance of the truth. When you say 'fine' there's a sign above your head that says the opposite."

"Yeah, and people read that sign and pretended they didn't." Stefan said. "It's just better that way." _Easier for everyone_ , he thought silently.

Damon made a sound of scorn. "Better for who? Definitely not you!"

Stefan sat up angrily, tears of the same emotion pricking behind his eyes. "You pretended to kill Salvatore and staged it to look like I was neglectful and it was my fault."

"I didn't think you were gonna throw yourself off the roof!" he protested.

"With my history--!" Stefan stopped himself and simply finished the response by shoving back the covers, intent on getting out of his brother's bed.

"No." Damon pushed him back down, keeping his hand on Stefan's bare shoulder. There was silence for a minute but for the unintelligible murmur from the television that was indistinguishable to human ears, but a vampire's picked it up as if it were on max. "No. You're not leaving, Stefan. No more hiding, no more running away."

Stefan inhaled deeply. "What you did was the worst possible thing you could have done."

"Maybe," he said. Stefan gave him a look. "OK, it was. But we're here now, so we're going to do this. Let's share our feelings, Stefan, it'll be great." Silence greeted him. "Oh, the one time I'm ready to talk feelings, you're not?" Damon said sarcastically. "When exactly did we _Freaky Friday_?"

Stefan gave an unwilling snort. "Does that mean I get to tell people that you've watched _Freaky Friday_?"

"Sure you can—if you talk to me." Damon stipulated. "What's the problem? Before I got you your first journal, I was your fucking journal."

"Yeah, and before, my biggest problem in life was father trying to get me engaged to Susie Sheffield." Stefan retorted. "Those were the days."

"I can always just read your journal," Damon made the last-ditch threat.

Stefan wasn't the least bit threatened. "You can try, I haven't written in it in months."

"Stefan," he sighed.

"What? I tried, it didn't happen. Then I just stopped trying." The brunette shrugged and brooded across the room at the bourbon decanter atop the chest of drawers.

Damon followed his gaze. "Do I need to hide all the booze now?"

Stefan gave him an annoyed look. "I'm not an alcoholic, Damon. It was a crutch so I could get out of bed in the morning."

"First step is admitting it."

"What's a surprise is that you didn't drive me to drink sooner." He pointed out.

The vampire ignored the jab. "So, you're not having sex, you're not writing in your journal—the latter of which practically makes you tick. Strike three, the bites in your neck have long since healed, how did you manage to turn Teacher away from his best dining experience? No doubt he would have tasted the inebriation, your blood's saturated in it by now, soon it'll be coming out your pours. That is the reason why, isn't it?"

"How do you know he hasn't been feeding from somewhere else?" Stefan said suggestively.

"You haven't been having sex, remember?"

"Well, you have all the answers." Stefan snarked, his fingers curling, resisting the urge to reach up to his neck as the reminder reawakened the phantom pain of the burning pressure as John fed from him. "What do you need me for?"

"You're avoiding the question, brother."

Stefan's jaw ticked. "Easily... PTSD."

"What?" the vampire looked at him in surprise.

"It means--"

"I know what it means." Damon interrupted in a growl. "What do _you_ mean?"

Stefan sat up again, but instead of trying to leave again he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes before they could do something stupid like flood with unwanted tears, even if his heart squeezed up into his throat. "Nothing. It means nothing." He was over this, he solved the problem with Alaric the night they got home—yet it continuously featured in his nightmares.

"This reaction isn't nothing," Damon challenged.

It felt like he couldn't breath with the lump in his throat, either growing into a sob or a scream. Stefan's hands curled into fists. "Fuck!" he shouted, and turned with a suddenness that surprised the vampire and struck out. Stefan grunted as his fist landed solidly against the headboard. Unlike the vampire, he didn't hear the break, soft like a toothpick snapping, but he felt it.

Damon just watched the back of his shoulders heave as Stefan panted before the brunette slowly turned back around, holding his slightly curled hand carefully. With a slow exhale he carefully uncurled his fingers, grimacing. Despite the dim, flickering light of the television screen, the fast darkening bruising was clear even to human eyes.

"Feel better?" Damon questioned wryly. He turned on the beside lamp.

Stefan licked his lips and looked up at his brother. "Yes," he said truthfully. The pain gave him something to focus on, it helped him concentrate. Just like with the black eye, it helped stop him from spiralling more out of control, anchored him to the present.

"I would offer you blood but I'm afraid you'll try to punch me and break the rest of your fingers." Damon said drily.

"You would be right."

With a sigh Damon stood from the bed and blurred from the room. Stefan turned his attention back to his hand. He slowly straightened his fingers with an exhale through his nose. He already knew which finger, it could only be one and at the fault of the Gilbert ring and its bulk. He carefully slid the ring down his finger, but not off, before the swelling got too great and caused problems. Of course, if it were just a normal ring, even his old daylight ring, he would have simply taken it off, but it was the source of the magic that kept Stefan's life force from dying out until it could relearn to self-sustain itself. He hadn't taken it off since he became human again, and wasn't willing to risk somehow breaking the 'connection' by moving it to another finger. He was just going to hope that swelling didn't grow passed his second knuckle. Stefan carefully flexed his finger, the pain flaring normally, but movement at this stage of the injury was no indication what kind of fracture he was dealing with. He carefully palpated the swelling flesh inside; it wasn't comminute like his femur had been (thankfully), nor did it feel displaced.

Stefan looked up when Damon finally returned, tossing a gel pack and first aid kit onto the bed. "Might want to set that and ice it before it swells too much with that ring and cuts off your circulation."

"Thanks." Stefan put the cool gel pack on his hand to help reduce the swelling as he opened the first aid kit next to him with his right and started looking through the contents. It appeared to be a non-displaced transverse fracture of the proximal phalanx, which was good because he didn't have to go to the ER, he could take care of it right here. He could simply buddy-tape it, but to be on the safe side, at least for tonight, he wanted to make sure it stayed immobilized, so he was going to splint it. "Help me with the tape?" he held out the small roll of medical tape toward Damon.

Damon took the small roll of tape and wrapped it around the splint (as Stefan held it) and digit, not too restricting with the swelling, but enough to secure it, making sure to get the Gilbert ring under a strip of tape where it sat beneath the second knuckle so it wouldn't slip off either. Then, at Stefan's instruction, did a lap of tape around his knuckles and the end of the splint, and buddy-taped his middle finger.

"Here." Stefan looked up from his hand to find Damon with a glass of water and Extra Strength Tylenol.

Stefan took the pills and drained the glass. "Thanks." He wiped the sweat from his upper lip and laid back down, his left hand laid carefully on his stomach over the covers, the gel pack laid on top.

"Now, to finish our conversation." Damon moved the first aid kit and sat back in bed facing the supine brunette.

Stefan groaned, throwing his right forearm over his eyes. "Do we have to? I thought the point of this was to sleep, whatever happened to that?"

But Damon was not to be dissuaded. "You're not writing in your journal, you're not sharing with anyone else, so consider it 1860 again when _I_ used to be your journal; you're already in my bed and I'm taking care of you, let's just take it that last step." He sighed. "Come on, Stef. You used to tell me everything."

Stefan swallowed thickly at the sad undertone to his big brother's quiet voice. "That was back when it was me and you against everyone else. Before you shoved me to the ground like I was an obstacle that you needed to go through, not a brother or your best-friend." His voice was gruff, his eyes squeezed closed behind his arm, the old tears trying to resurface with the feelings. "Before you decided that you wanted to run away and live an eternity without me." His breath hitched. "You were going to run away and leave me behind!" he bit back the sob, his right hand clenching into a fist.

"Stefan," Damon uttered in a moment of shock.

"Shit," Stefan cursed his overwrought sensibilities. "Forget I said anything." He started to roll onto his side, away from his brother.

"Hey." Damon said sharply. He grabbed Stefan's right wrist, effectively halting the brunette's turn. "I honestly never thought of it that way, Stefan." He pulled Stefan's arm from his face and leaned forward to look him in the eye. "I was stupid, I was obsessed. Greedy. I was in love with Katherine, infatuated with the Power, the invulnerability of vampirism. Of having that. The thought of no longer having to cow under Giuseppe. You're right. Katherine was my ticket to freedom and the jealousy I held toward you at the time overrode what was most important. And I'm sorry that it took us—me—this long to get here, back to being brothers again." Damon squeezed his wrist lightly before releasing it. "I said this was a new start for us and I'm keeping to that promise."

Stefan slowly exhaled and nodded, relaxing back slightly. "John fed from me," he confessed and Damon went rigid. "Ric knows, I told him the night we got home. He fed from me, twice, from the same spot because I asked him to." He briefly closed his eyes. "I needed him to erase the memory of John's fangs in my skin, and it helped, it really did, but it didn't stop the nightmares. And then I just couldn't..."

This time, Damon let out a snarl and punched the headboard. The entire bed frame shuddered at the force. He pulled his fist back, the abrasions on his knuckles quickly healing. Now he understood why Stefan didn't want blood; the vampire wanted to strike out again. Even picturing John Gilbert's face, it wouldn't be enough. "I should have killed him." He said through his fangs gritted in fury, his hands balled. "I should have ripped his head off and been done with it."

"Yes," Stefan agreed, accusation not in his tone, just cold fact. "Instead, you let your petty feelings get the better of you and now we both have to deal with the consequences." He sat up and replaced the gel pack on his hand in his lap. "You with your guilt and me my PTSD—which is ironic seeing all the horrible things I've done in the past 145 years."

"This is different than you going Ripper, Stefan." Damon corrected. "This time it happened _to_ you. It's different from that side, isn't it?" he looked at his brother. "What do you want, Stefan?"

Stefan flashed a droll smile. "That's a loaded question," he teased.

"What do you need, then?" he corrected.

"Still as loaded." He gave a small smirk, avoiding the question.

Damon rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll answer for you. You need to face your demons, these fears that you feed and create for yourself to punish yourself. You need to stop. I know you've recently added the witch to your selection of nightmares, too."

Stefan narrowed his eyes. "How could you know that?"

"Other than you just admitting it now? I may have taken a sneak preview of what I was going to have to go up against when I set up decoy-Klaus."

Stefan gave an inexplicable shiver at the name. "Who?" he asked in confusion.

"The fish from _American Dad_." Damon gave him a odd look.

"First _Freaky Friday_ , now _American Dad_. I didn't know you watched so much television, Damon."

He just held up his hand towards the mounted flat screen on his wall. "I'm a 169 year old vampire, sometimes I just need a break from being awesome. Besides, it's not the 19th century any more; I can find entertainment in things other than bloodshed, I'm evolved." Stefan huffed in mild amusement. Damon turned serious. "Don't let the likes of John fucking Gilbert ruin one of the few things you've let yourself enjoy, Stefan. Don't let that bastard have the final laugh and break that caring piece inside you that has somehow survived everything! I know what giving Alaric your blood means to you. You're giving a piece of yourself to him, Gilbert took that from you once, but don't let him steal it away from you forever. Don't let him be the reason you push Ric away."

"Never heard you defend Ric so vehemently before."

"Well, Teacher isn't the worst guy you could be in love with. If it was that Lockwood kid, then I'd have something to say." He just had an innate dislike of the dick.

"Tyler isn't all bad." Stefan protested and then laughed at his brother's expression.

"Funny." He muttered.

"I thought so." But he sobered after a moment. "Thank you, Damon."

"I'm just telling you what you already know but are to stubborn to listen to yourself." Damon claimed. "Now, enough talk, it's bed time." He smirked and turned off the lamp. "Don't make me tuck you in, baby brother."

"You would, too, just to prove some point." Stefan turned on his side so the mounted flat screen was cut out of his view and he faced his brother who lounged back against the headboard, caught in the faint glow of the screen. "Now what?"

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Just like that?" the gel pack hardly held any cold, but he still laid his hand on it under the pillow.

"Yep."

"Helpful."

"I thought so."

Stefan heaved a sigh after a moment. "I'm not tired."

"You will be, now shut up."

Another minute. "Still awake."

Damon groaned. "You're impossible!"

"You always used to tell me stories." Stefan suggested.

Damon glanced down at him. "You also used to snuggle against me. Oh, how times change." He turned off the flat screen, casting the room back into darkness despite it being almost 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and tossed the remote onto the nightstand. "Let's see..." he reached over and laid his hand gently on Stefan's head cushioned on the pillow.

Despite his eyes being open, Stefan saw nothing but sheep literally jumping over a section of fence like a vivid visual hallucination. He could feel the gentle wisp of Damon's Power, very unlike the thick tendrils slipping off the oiled surface of his subconscious with compulsion. This dream manipulation wasn't out to hurt him and it felt like sleepy cotton fog. He didn't try to fight it. His eyes fluttered closed and it was the same scene vivid in his mind's eyes. It was a tried and true ritual as Stefan finally succumbed and entered REM, but Damon definitely had his work cut out for him.

...

Stefan woke up in a brief moment of confusion; this wasn't his room or his bed, and that definitely wasn't Ric touching him. But the pain in his hand focused his brain back into the right time slot and he opened his eyes. Damon was still lounged back against the headboard, looking a little paler than usual, staring ahead with a distant gaze, his hand laid on Stefan chest.

"You used to do that when I was little," Stefan whispered.

"Old habits die hard, I guess." Damon also came back to the present and reclaimed his hand. Stefan couldn't stop the slight frown from forming. "You were a sick little thing, weren't you? Had to make sure you didn't go and die in your fucking sleep." It was supplied sarcastically but the tinge of old fear blanketed beneath was real. "A great ritual to start at 7."

Stefan pushed himself up with a quiet grunt, almost rubbing his eyes with his left hand before the pain reminded him that might not be such a great idea. "Pretty sure you were the only thing keeping me there."

"Stopped visiting your crib at night because you practically grew up sleeping in mine since the day you learned to walk. As soon as the nanny blew out the candle, you'd jailbreak out of the crib like a ninja and I'd no sooner find you at the foot of my bed." He shot his brother a sly smirk. "It could be said that I've slept with you more times with any woman," he winked.

"Yeah, well," Stefan returned with a small smile, "I liked your stories best and it wasn't like you ever kicked me out. In fact, one could say that you practically encouraged me, despite father's warnings."

"You know my motto..." Damon stood from his bed, arms stretched over his head. "' _Fuck Giuseppe'_." Stefan snorted in amusement. "Learned that word just for him." He dropped his arms and went over to his chest of drawers and poured himself a bourbon, throwing it back. "God, I'm starving." Damon announced. "You should be offering up a free vein tap, Stef. Keeping your horror stories at bay is definitely at mental workout and Power drainer. I could go for a fresh meal right now, definitely hit the spot better than the pre-packaged stuff in the freezer." He uttered to himself.

"What's your plan now?" Stefan still felt like crap, just a well-rested piece of crap; he was grungy in need of a shower with a hollow stomach in dire need of substance. He could use a shot of hydrocortisone right now to help with the inflammation and pain in his hand. His nights had been plagued for months; it was hard to get rest when you were terrorized in your sleep.

"Depends." Damon turned to him. "You sober?"

"Unfortunately," Stefan joked, rising to his feet. "Now what, more talking? I need to get more ice on this." He gestured at his left hand.

"Sure. But first, you got the drunk-sweats and need a shower, and food. You need that now, remember? You can't survive on alcohol, now matter how much you dream."

Stefan started around the bed, but then stopped. "Can I shower in my own bathroom this time?"

"Can I trust you to take a shower and not finger the razorblade thoughtfully?" he challenged.

"Trust me, if I was going to try again, I wouldn't slit my wrists." He returned. It wouldn't be fast enough; the scent of blood would alert Damon before he could properly bleed out. The brachial artery in the inside of his upper arm would be the better alternative. It was a morbid thought but true.

Damon stared for a second before he simply raised his arm and pointed into his en suite. Stefan just shrugged and made his way into the bathroom. He really didn't want to go back into his, not while 'decoy-Klaus' was still hanging around. He paused at the counter and checked on Salvatore in the basin; he seemed to be doing fine. Stefan definitely wasn't going to put Salvatore back into that bowl, it was a tainted home now, he was going to have to get a new fishbowl and soon. The comet goldfish couldn't stay in Damon's bathroom sink forever; Damon would forget that he was even there and end up accidentally killing him.

Stefan stripped from his boxers and stepped into Damon's shower which consisted of clear glass walls, at least his own were frosted. He was careful not to use his left hand and keep it out of the stream of hot water. When he was finished, smelling like his brother, he found a pile of his own clothes waiting for him on the counter; Damon must have gotten them from his room. A pair of briefs, flannel pants, a t-shirt and pullover. He carded his fingers through his yet hair as he left the en suite.

"Here." Damon shoved the fishbowl towards him. "The fish stays in my sink any longer and I just might mistake it for a pond and take a piss." But Stefan held his hands in the air and backed away.

"I'm not putting Salvatore back in that, clean or not." Stefan denied. "You put a dead fish in it, Damon. It's tainted now, he needs a new bowl."

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Damon demanded. Stefan stared back unflinching. "Fine." He strode across his bedroom and opened his balcony door and then lobbed the fishbowl into the night. It quickly disappeared into the distance of the wood. "There." He turned back, swinging the door shut. "Bad mojo gone."

"You can drive me to the pet store in the morning," Stefan said.

Damon raised his brow. "Am I suddenly your chauffeur?"

"You're rehabilitating me back into life, right? Or I can take my bike and--"

"You think you're so clever."

"I don't know," Stefan said innocently, "Did it work?"

"Sure." Damon turned from him and left the bedroom. "But now I'm not making you midnight breakfast."

"What?" Stefan pouted, his long gait quickly catching up to his brother. "But I wanted your pancakes!"

"Who said I was going to make pancakes?" he turned down the hall toward the kitchen.

Stefan scoffed. "Pancakes are your specialty, don't deny it."

"Flattery has finally worked in your favour, brother." Damon pushed through the two-door into the kitchen, Stefan close behind. "I'll make you pancakes this once at request."

Stefan smiled but paused as he caught sight of the calendar hanging on the side of the cupboard and his brows knitted as he looked at the X's crossing out the days. "Hey, it's not April Fools." He accused. "That was two weeks ago!"

Damon paused in his ingredient gathering and gave a one-shouldered shrug. "April Fools!" he sighed at Stefan's look. "What can I say? You were a pretty convincing functioning alcoholic."

Stefan turned from the calendar, unable to keep looking at the proof. He'd been in a drunken haze for almost four weeks and no one had realized the agony he was trying to drown out. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful or hurt, but that had been what he had wanted, right? To hide it away, to suffer in silence. Now he just felt defeated. "You always tell me I'm a shitty actor." He tried to deflect, giving himself a mental headshake; it was too late to dwell now.

"That's only because I've known you your whole life and they haven't for even a year." Damon grabbed a gel pack from the fridge freezer and tossed it on the island for him before going about his task. "I was hoping you'd snap out of it yourself before I had to do anything drastic."

Stefan made no comment and picked up the gel pack, turning toward the sink and pulling the tea towel free from the ring and wrapped it around the pack. He held it against his splinted finger, staring blankly out the kitchen window above the sink that showed nothing beyond the glass just reflected him back. It was just like before, he was drowning and no one else seemed to realize. It wasn't their fault, he didn't want to burden them with his problems.

His gaze shifted from his reflection in the window to the thick handle of the butcher knife sitting in the dish rack on the counter next to the sink. He set the gel pack down and grasped the handle in his right hand, picking it up and turned to Damon, oblivious with his head ducked in the fridge. Stefan silently stepped forward.

Damon gave a slight start as he felt Stefan's left arm unexpectedly wrap around his chest from behind, but instantly tensed as he felt a sharp point pinch the skin beneath his armpit on his right side. He carefully glanced that way and saw a wicked butcher knife poised there, Stefan's hand steady; his own fingers tightened on the edge of the door. He felt the brunette’s heartbeat through his back and closed his eyes briefly; he remembered the first time he felt that again when he gave Stefan a piggyback ride from the quarry back to the car after Bonnie brought him back human again.

"What are you doing, Stefan?" he questioned calmly. It wouldn’t kill him permanently like a wooden stake even though it would be to the heart, but it would still hurt like fuck and he'd experience that temporary death—and who knew where Stefan might be by the time he woke up again.

"This is one of the ways I'd think to do it," Stefan said. "It's quick, be over in seconds, too fast and too traumatic to be healed by vampire blood. Of course, it's more effective on the left side, closer still to the heart, but I can't hold the knife properly in my left at the moment—it does still get the point across." He paused and sighed, his breath brushing across the side of Damon throat, making the vampire swallow quietly. "What I mean to say is that it's no one's fault," he whispered. "I just wanted you to know that."

"This sounds a lot like goodbye, Stefan." Damon announced through gritted teeth.

Stefan's left arm tightened around Damon and unbeknownst to both, at that moment they both squeezed their eyes shut at the same time. Sometimes, a dark depression just blanketed his mind. There had only been a handful of times in the past 145 years that he had been on the true brink of just finally ending it, those, like this time, were snubbed by physical intervention either by Lexi or Damon. The others, which there were many, he'd talked himself down.

"It's not." Stefan swore. "Not this time." He had more things to live for now than he did even before; he may have lost Lexi in the shuffle but he got his brother back, lasting friends and someone who wanted to spend eternity with him. Things-- people to keep fighting for. Stefan pulled the butcher knife away and dropped his arm, stepping back. "I told you I didn't want to die and that's still true." He placed the knife flat on the island and pressed the gel pack back against his throbbing hand.

Damon quickly straightened and grabbed the knife, hiding it away in a random drawer before he turned back to Stefan, regarding his little brother for a moment. "You've been here before, Stefan. And we got you out then, we're going to again. Now sit, no knives. I'm making pancakes here."

With a slight smile at the corner of his lips, Stefan sat on a stool at the island and watched his brother mixed the batter from scratch and made simple mixed berry pancake instead of vampire faces and set the brunette up with his favoured tea.

"You don't have to worry about school or the Scooby Gang," Damon said as he plated the first round of pancakes and set them in front of Stefan. "I told them you needed brother time."

"You do realize that's practically code for ' _Stefan's lost his shit again'_ , right?" Stefan pointed out.

"If the shoe fits, brother."

Stefan lips took a wry twist as he buttered his stack; there was no point in arguing. Sleep, shower, pancakes... it was all just the seeds for him to grow from. He wanted more than just a stray ray of sunlight through the storm clouds, maybe this time he could get that.

There was always the hope, after all.

_[...tbc...]_

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Wow, so, then... things got pretty dark but I hope you saw the little bit of sun peeking through just like Stefan by the end. I'm a little worried that Damon may have gone a bit OOC, your thoughts?**


	25. CHAPTER 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Includes/Spoilers/WARNING** : smut, feeding, food/cooking

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

The bright yellow overhead sun was warm on Stefan's face, acute through his closed eyelids despite the extra cover of his shades. It was the weekend, which meant Damon had finally regaled him the trust with sharp, pointy things like knives since his little display in the kitchen that first night, and the privilege of some alone time. But it was the weekend, which also meant that the flimsy excuse he'd been holding onto the past few days to keep the others away from the Boarding House was now null and void.

The clock was counting down to the end of the school day.

The morning after his too close of a call, after waking up again in Damon's bed after pancakes, he finally got a hold of his cell phone, crowded with text messages and voicemails from the recipients of Damon's brother-time text and subsequent phone calls that immediately followed, corresponding calls that also filled Stefan's message box. He'd texted them back with reassurances before they went to class and he and Damon went to the pet store for a new fishbowl for Salvatore. Any suspicions the three of them had were just confirmed with Damon's ostensibly cutely coined phrase; which truly did seem to translate into _'Stefan's lost his shit again'._ It had been the middle of the week, which seemed to be his preferred period to go into a suicidal depression if recent past history was anything to count on. He was sure that Bonnie was the only one who realized just how close it had been that time when she'd picked him up outside the Gilbert residence, though it was never talked about between the two of them.

' _Stefan's lost his shit again_ — _must be a Wednesday!"_

He let out an exhale of annoyance, it sounding more like a hiss between his teeth than a controlled release to calm himself down. It wouldn't do to punch a wall again; one broken finger was enough, he didn't need to look like a maniac on top of everything else.

Of course, some phone calls weren't just going to keep Alaric at bay for long, which Stefan was silently grateful. Hence the countdown. Somehow he'd managed to convince Bonnie and Elena not to come but he needed to pop the safety of his Big Brother Bubble just the same as last time. The Founder's Day Kick-Off Party had definitely been a large enough pin for it; yes, they discovered just what a stake in the ass John Gilbert was going to be, but it had also given him back Alaric and Elena, and he couldn't regret his dance with Bonnie either.

This, right here, was the spot where it could have all ended for him, no resurrection for a third time if Damon had been just a fraction of a second slower that he had been—but it wasn't.

Stefan breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. He needed to learn not to despise his own breathing. Before, when he was of the undead variety, it had been an automatic, instinctual response, a mirror of what he had simply done in his previous life; but now, when breath was vital to his being, it always caught him off guard how _loud_ it was to his own ears, how unnatural it felt. It was almost laughable if one had a morbid sense of humour. Despite the ruffle of wind through the leaves, the calls of birds, the natural din of mother nature, his breathing still seemed overly loud over it all. Hearing others heartbeats in his vampirisim was like hearing life itself, he didn't have that anymore; he had his own heartbeat and his breath should have been like the beauty of a flute song to his ears, yet somehow, it did nothing but serve to make him feel... **angry.**

He lightly thumped his clenched right first against his forehead, and held his breath. Unlike Damon, in 1864 becoming a vampire had not been on his list of goals in life, becoming one had been an accident driven by unforeseen consequence of saying goodbye to Giuseppe. Now, it was the unacknowledged, yet driven conclusion in the back of his mind. Maybe not now, but sometime in his future this was an event that needed to happen, that he was to see happen. He was going to become a vampire again. Not now, but one way or another, the attempt of this purpose was going to happen; it was set in the stone of his future, just _not now_. Stefan dropped his right hand back down to his side and breathed again, his palm flat on the warm stone beneath. His life was good how it was; the problem was that _he_ was not fine—he would be, he just wasn't _right now_.

It wasn't his body this time that was rebelling against him; headaches, nosebleeds, blackouts. This time it was his own mind. Being a vampire changed the chemistry of the brain, the dark magic enhanced the brain's capability to endure the prolonged life sentence, but this was not about his past. Damon was right about that, it wasn't what he had done in the past, it was about what had been **done to him** in the present that was affecting him thus.

Being a vampire for so long had dulled him to his natural human proclivities; it was that vanity again rearing its ugly head, the superiority of vampire immortality, the near invulnerability of it all. Yes, as a vampire he still bled, still felt pain, but when one could heal from wounds that would kill a mortal human threefold in turn, one tended to lose reality with the instinctual response of natural human nature in such events.

His body rebelling against him; he lived with that for a 145 years prior, that was no new concept to him, even if it was a new experience of it. It wasn't the lack of healing that discombobulated his mind. It was his mind's processing, or lack thereof, of the trauma done onto him that was affecting him so negatively.

His former life as a vampire had been relatively uneventful; the only times he was every kidnapped, was when Lexi pulled him out of the world while in his Ripper persona; the torture he experienced was Ripper Detox at her hands and her mind manipulation. Other vampires (if he ever encountered them), humans, they were _his_ victims, _his_ prey. But that was the whole point, it was how he saw himself in those situations, his perception on them that effected the overall outcome of their affect on him.

Lexi did those things to rehabilitate him, help him. He never once feared her after or hated her for it, it was all in his best interests and everyone else’s, too. And he did unto them, not them unto him.

He told Damon he wasn't going to live his life controlled by the fear of whether or not he would be able to turn into a vampire again when the time came, and he wasn't, but he was living with a different kind of fear now. It was rooted in his subconscious and terrorized him in his dreams and he'd been letting it, feeding into it even. It was like he was stuck in the 5 stages of grief, cycling through to acceptance, only for some horror to be thrown in his face and he was back to square one. He couldn't blame all the disasters throughout his life on some doppelganger curse, when it was the choices _he_ made that garnered the consequences he suffered.

He opened his eyes and looked into the sun and blammed the burn of tears behind his eyes on it.

Everyone had free will, everyone had the power to choose. Doppelganger curse, what a beautiful scapegoat, when it was simply himself and the choices that he made that caused him and others to suffer. People got hurt because of his choices, when he gave up that right, people still seemed to get hurt because of him. He didn't know what to do to break the cycle. He taunted Katherine with false love, he baited John by staying in Elena's life. His bad choices got Alaric turned and nearly killed Bonnie. It seemed like no matter what he did, someone he cared about got hurt because of it.

He clamped his eyes shut, squeezing the tears passed his eyelashes to run from the corners of his eyes and into his ears. "No, no, no." He uttered. He was spiralling, falling down the rabbit hole of his endless guilt.

_Think rationally,_ he silently commanded himself, _don't let the guilt consume and control you_. Everyone deserved to be happy, even him. Perfection wasn't happiness, perfection wasn't real. No one was perfect, especially not him. Yet he continued to hold himself to the golden standard. He could live in more than just a moment of happiness, if he just allowed himself forgiveness for the mistakes he made. He was so willing to forgive and forget with others, but loath to allow himself another chance. He held himself to the highest standard, something he had come to realize stemmed from the label of 'Golden Boy' in his youth; and that was the crux of his problem because he could never do anything right in his own eyes and that was what reflected back at him in other peoples' eyes—his own condemnation.

He used guilt as a shield because the thing he wanted most was the thing that he feared most. Guilt was his subconscious way of protecting himself from that fear. Everything he could ever want was just a step a way, he just needed to take that last step. He needed to give himself to that vulnerability because in truth, it was strength. The only one stopping him from being happy was himself. Katherine was gone, John was gone, he was just clinging to their ghosts so he didn't have to face himself and the truth of his reality. No one was doing this to him but himself.

Stefan didn't want that anymore.

His fingers itched for a pen and his journal, but instead he picked at the buddy-tape on his fingers. He'd actually gotten rid of the splint this morning and was simply relying on the buddy-tape to stabilize the fracture. It seemed to the brunette that the swelling had gone down exceptionally fast within the preceding days, enough so that he'd actually been able to move the Gilbert ring back into its proper place on his finger.

He breathed in and out. He stopped picking at the tape. He could do this because he wanted to be happy, he didn't not want his main setting to be misery, to be so guilt ridden over things that were done and couldn't be taken back, that had been forgiven by everyone but himself. He licked his lips and breathed.

A silent shadow fell across him, dimming the light through his closed lids considerably and he slowly opened his eyes behind the shades to find Alaric looking down at him in his supine position on the bare stone of the piazza with a mix of worry and relief.

"The lounge chairs not to your liking?" Alaric wondered lightly.

"Something like that." He managed to say through the sudden lump in his constricted throat.

Alaric must have heard it because he dropped down beside the brunette. "Hey," he uttered, placed his hand over Stefan's layered on his stomach.

Stefan sat up. "I don't think I've ever seen that shirt before." He said instead.

"Too much?" Alaric glanced down at himself, briefly tugging on the cerise collared polo shirt.

Stefan shook his head. "It's... carefree." He smoothed his hand down the vampire's chest with a soft smile. "I like it."

"Well, then I'm glad I wore it." He gently took Stefan's hand between his own with a slight frown. "How's your hand doing?"

"Better," Stefan assured; he'd mentioned it to the teacher during one of their conversations over the phone and had the whole 'Got into a fight with the wall and lost' talk. "The swelling has gone down considerably since and I was able to move the ring back."

Alaric gently stroked the back of his hand with his thumb. "Good."

Stefan stared down at their hands between them for a moment. "I'm sorry!" he blurted, looking up.

Alaric shook his head in slight confusion. "For what, the wall? Don't worry, we've all had that fight at one point or another and lost." But Stefan shook his head with pursed lips. "What is it, Stefan?" he pushed the brunette's shades up from his eyes and into his hair, finally getting a clear look into his forest green eyes; the guilt, shame, and fear swimming there didn't bode well. "What did you do?"

Stefan reluctantly reclaimed his hand, his right fingers wrapped tightly around his left wrist and he held his hands against his stomach. "I made a mistake. Damon stopped me but I almost made a huge mistake, Ric. I'm sorry."

Alaric stared at him. "Stop apologizing and just tell me, Stefan." He had a terrible sinking feeling and wished this had something to do with punching a wall. He was afraid to ask. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know but knew that he _needed_ to. "Does this have anything to do with why Damon seemed... aggrieved," Stefan bite the inside of his cheek, "when he told me you were out here before he left?"

Stefan slowly nodded, he'd made the decision to come clean to Alaric about this, he deserved to know. "It's this spot," he released his left wrist and laid his right palm flat on the dusty stone next to his thigh. "In his eyes, this spot is now equivalent to the one at the quarry where he laid me to rest."

"Stefan, what the hell are you trying to say to me?" Alaric managed to croak for his undead heart stuffed into his throat.

Stefan swallowed thickly. "You know--"

"No! No, I don't." Alaric blurred to his feet in refusal. "I'm thinking a lot of things right now, jumping to a lot of conclusions. So-- so if you want me to _know_ then you're going to have to _tell_ me. You're gonna have to say the words, I can't do that for you. I won't." He clarified after a moment, his chest heaving.

Stefan’s breathing was so loud and harsh sounding in his own ears he climbed to his feet, slowly licking his lips. He uttered the words he never rightly said to anyone before, he didn't believe he'd even outright written the words in any of his journals, "I tried to kill myself."

There was an instant pause in the vampire and Stefan could see the glass shatter in Alaric's blue eyes in the next; his denial, the one strand holding him together. Alaric picked up a lounge chair and threw it with a roar, it crashed through the tree line across the yard with cracking branches. His fists clenched tightly, his shoulders trembling with rage and sorrow. He wanted that fight with the wall and this time he'd win. He closed his eyes instead and Stefan saw the tear escape and make a lonely journey down his pale cheek, through his stubble, to drip off the edge of his chin and make a small dark spot on his cerise shirt that would be gone in a few minutes time.

Stefan carefully closed the distance between them, reaching up and laying either hand on the vampire's upper arms. "I'm sorry, Ric."

Alaric stilled under his touch. "Sorry for what?" he murmured, his voice empty. The tears caught in his lashes sparkled in the sunlight, outlining his hollow eyes. "That Damon stopped you? That you told me? What?"

Stefan's fingers gripped his arms in growing horror, the sharp pain shooting through his finger and into his hand barely felt at the reaction. "Why are you talking like that? Don't talk like that!" he shook the vampire frantically, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Why not? You just told me you tried to kill yourself, that the only reason you're here telling me now is because Damon stopped you before you could."

"You have to know that I didn't do it to hurt you." Stefan said desperately.

"Then why does it hurt so much?" he challenged.

There was a sense of déjà vu, they'd had a conversation before, but now it was like they were repeating each other's words. But Stefan didn't want that because by the end of that conversation Alaric had gone and slept in a different room, this time Stefan didn't think the end result would be as harmless in comparison. "I'm sorry, Ric. I love you. Be mad, be anything, but please don't flip your switch."

"You don't have to worry, I didn't flip the switch." Alaric informed him. "I'm afraid of what I might do to you if I did." He stepped back out of Stefan's grasp and sat heavily on the cushioned bench behind him against the piazza wall. He elbows braced on his knees, he leaned forward, lower half of his face hidden behind clasped hands.

Stefan sunk down to his knees, feeling weak. "I don't know what else I'm supposed to say," he confessed faintly. "What do you want me to do?"

Alaric's head snapped up at that. "I want you to want to live, Stefan. I want you to want to be happy, more importantly, I want you to actually be happy!"

"I do want to live," Stefan said, looking him with a puzzled expression. He gave his head a little shake. "Of course I want to be happy, Ric. And I have been... in moments, but that all I ever seem to get. A stray shaft of sun through the black clouds, just enough to keep the hope alive. But I'm sick of that, I'm sick and tired of being like this—but I don't know how I'm supposed to _stop_."

Alaric swallowed and unclasped his hands, cupping Stefan's face. "Sometimes, happiness isn't free. For people like us, we just have to fight a little harder for what we deserve. If life is an uphill battle, then happiness is a mountain. You can't make that climb alone, Stefan."

His breath was shaky. "I don't want to be a nuisance, to be worried over."

"You're not a burden to me, Stefan." Alaric told him passionately. "You're not some curse on my life. You're the man that I love. These feelings, they're mine," he tapped his own chest with his fingertips briefly before his hand went back to Stefan's face. "You can't stop them, you can't change them, you just have to accept them." Alaric's thumb stopped the descent of a hot tear down the brunette's cheek. "You hide yourself away, you don't have to do that anymore. Let me in, Stefan, let's climb together, fight together. You're not in this alone." He gave his head a small shake and a sob clogged Stefan's throat. "It would wreck me if you died, Stefan." Alaric whispered. "Whether at your own hand or someone else’s, it would wreck me. I know you understand that. I just don't understand how you could ever think killing yourself was a viable option to anything, Stefan. I don't."

Stefan swallowed convulsively against the lump in his throat, his voice sounding thick when he finally managed to speak. "I wasn't thinking about you or anyone else, just that I needed _peace_ , to stop feeling scared and guilty and worried and ashamed and every-fucking-thing else in the ether. To stop feeling hunted and haunted, to be free. I wasn't thinking about any of you and I know that was selfish but I just **couldn't** anymore." His right hand reached up and his fingers wrapped around Alaric's forearm. "It was just too much and I needed it to stop. It was a mistake, I know that, I'm so sorry, Ric."

"I know you get depressed, Stefan." Alaric stroked his cheek, one hand dropping away, the other cupping his nape. "And I've seen you giving up, losing hope. I've read your journals and I can read between the lines, but you've never outright said it in the cold, hard light of day. Do you know how frightening that is?"

Stefan gave a slight nod; he did. When he'd asked Damon so desperately if he'd ever thought about it, he didn't know what answer he had been looking for or even hoping for. 'No' to show Stefan how ashamed he should be of the thoughts or 'yes' to give Stefan a pardon from having the thoughts. But the 'yes' Damon gave him sent a sharp, vicious spear of fear through him. Just the thought that Damon had actually contemplated it, wrenched Stefan's guts. To have never even known... it had just shown the younger Salvatore exactly how out of touch with his brother he had been and that was unacceptable. It made fresh tears prick his eyes.

He shuffled forward on his knees and Alaric straightened, looking down at him in confusion. "What are you doing?" Stefan silently stopped between his knees, his breath panting, and buried his face in the vampire's stomach, arms wrapped around his waist, shades falling off. "It's okay," Alaric automatically hushed, stroking Stefan's head in comfort.

"It's not!" Stefan denied, his voice coming out muffled but the vampire could still hear it clearly. "I almost wasted my last death. If Damon had been a decimal slower, he wouldn't have been able to catch me in time and it would all be over. I would have sacrificed you and him and everyone else and for what? 3 seconds of peace?" He could feel the dull ache in his head that was birthed when he started to cry the first time, start to morph as he got more worked up. He knew he should stop, calm down, but it needed to come out, be ejected for all the dark, secretive poison that it was. "I don't remember what it's like on the Other Side, but its a purgatory for the supernatural, it's not Heaven. I wouldn't be with mom, I wouldn't be with anyone."

"Stefan, you need to calm down or you're gonna make yourself--"

"I don't want to be alone." He made a weak sound. "Please don't leave me because of what I did," Stefan pleaded, slumping against him.

"St--" the warmth spreading against his stomach registered with the vampire half a second before his brain registered the name of the scent— **blood**. He raised Stefan's head from his stomach, the teen unresisting, and what he suspected was instantly confirmed. "God, Stefan, your nose is bleeding." He was too worried to even be hungry at the scent of the doppelganger's blood, even if it had been nearly 4 weeks since he'd last smelled Stefan's blood, let along drank it. He remembered Stefan's last nosebleed, it had been during Christmas break, they and Damon had been playing a board game and just as suddenly as they were having fun, Stefan's nose started gushing blood. Damon really hadn't been exaggerating when he had said it was like a broken water spout.

"It's okay." Stefan murmured, unconcernedly wiping his bloody nose on the shoulder of his grey t-shirt. "I'm okay," he promised. "See? It's already stopping."

Alaric pinched his chin between thumb and forefinger, gazing into his green eyes. "Are you sure? The last time--"

Stefan reached up and stroked Alaric's cheek. "I swear." Alaric finally gave a short nod in acceptance. "That hasn't happened in a while," he was sure it was nothing to worry about but it reminded him that the Gilbert ring was going to need a top up of magic and soon, but he didn't just want to come out of hiding before he was ready because he needed a magic fix from Bonnie. "You were right about working myself up." Stefan pillowed his head in Alaric's lap. "I didn't mean to scare you," he whispered.

Alaric carded his fingers through the brunette's hair and pressed a kiss to his crown. "What were talking about, Stefan?" he wondered after a few minutes, "About your mom?"

He was quiet for a moment. "When I was 8 years old," Stefan confessed mournfully, "That was the first time I thought about killing myself. The only time I did before I was turned into a vampire."

"What?" Alaric looked absolutely devastated at the news. "Stefan--" he just shook his head, speechless to say anything more.

"You know I was always sick as a child, one fever after another. And Damon told you about our mother. Father always kept us from each other but on the rare occasions that we were both fit at the same moment, we would sit out on the porch at night, her in the rocking chair, me in her lap, both snuggled under a blanket and look up at the stars as she recited poetry."

"That sounds beautiful, Stef."

Stefan rose his head and gave a soft, if sad, smile. "I got my fondness for poetry from her."

Alaric grasped his upper arms and pulled him up onto the bench next to him and carded their fingers together, resting their clasped hands on his thigh. "Go on."

Stefan licked his lips. "When she died, I was devastated. I never lost anyone I'd loved before, and I was angry because Damon didn't show up to her funeral and I just missed her so much. So, that night, I snuck from the house and I climbed Damon's and my favourite tree—I wanted to be as close to the stars as I could, as close to her as I could get. But it just made me miss her more, made me want to feel her arms around me again, her fingers brushing through my hair, her voice in my ear... but she was an Angel now, she was in Heaven. The only way I knew to get there, to ever see her again, was to die, too." Alaric squeezed his hand tightly in response, in counter and reassurance, Stefan laid his left hand on top of his, running his thumb along Alaric's whitened knuckles. "I was up so high, I just had to step off the branch and then we would be in the stars together."

"What stopped you?" Alaric whispered.

"Damon. I thought about how I would be leaving him behind, all alone, first mom and then me and I couldn't stand the thought." Stefan shook his head. "I had a nightmare that I slipped and feel from that tree, left to die alone without being able to tell Damon how much I loved him and how sorry I was, that I wasn't mad. I woke up in bed and I saw mom, I know I was still dreaming but it felt so real. She told me that everything was going to be okay, that though I was sad, I would always have Damon." He paused and confessed, "Damon doesn't know. I mean, I told him about mother, but never about the tree, about what I thought about doing. He'd just blame himself because he broke his promise and didn't come to the service and I was so upset with him that I refused to talk to him. That was why I wasn't with him that night and able to sneak away."

"If Damon doesn't even know, why are you telling me?" Alaric asked.

"I don't want to lose you, I can't. Just the thought..." he shook his head rapidly against the spiralling thought. "I refuse to." Stefan took a breath to center his thoughts. "Mom told me that everything was going to be okay, and I still believe that to be true. Maybe they aren't exactly at this moment, but one day. She was right about Damon, too. But don't you see? If she could have told me that I would have you one day... Things would have been so different, Ric. I wouldn't be this broken, hopeless thing that only spreads his misery around like the common cold."

"You're not hopeless and we're all a little broken, Stefan." Alaric told him. "None of that matters because we're here, now, together. Don't throw that away because of some misconstrued notion as stupid as some 'doppelganger curse'."

Stefan looked at Alaric and he couldn't help but feel simply baffled at how he could have such a man in his corner, such a man in love with him. But he wasn't going to ask because like Alaric already said, he was in love with Stefan and all Stefan had to do was accept it as fact. Ric was also right about something else, too. Though their relationship couldn't be qualified as simple in its span thus far, they were still here, together and anything curse-like that had happened, wasn't because he was a doppelganger, it was just the typical shit show associated with being a vampire and vampires in general.

A genuine smile took over Stefan's mouth and transformed his face, Alaric returned it in pleasant surprise. "Did you know that I love you?" Stefan asked. "Because I do, Ric." He laid his left hand on Alaric's chest. "I am utterly in love with you." His index finger hooked into the buttoned opening in his polo collar and tugged, pulling Alaric the short distance between them and kissed him. He sighed against vampire's mouth contently, eyes fluttering closed. Alaric cupped his head, angling it slightly and deepening the kiss. Stefan almost whimpered as the vampire licked into his mouth.

Several minutes later when they parted, Alaric rested their foreheads together. "Good, because I am utterly in love with you."

Stefan hugged Ric, unaware that he'd inadvertently pulled the vampire into his bloodied shoulder. Alaric bit back a groan, his face pressed against the bloodstained material. His eyes squeezed closed, he could feel the engorged veins crawling hungrily under his eyes, feel the sharp pain of his fangs poking through his gums, fighting him. He pressed his face harder against the teen's shoulder, inhaling deeply, torturing himself. He hadn't fed from Stefan since that morning they got home from the hospital in Doswell.

Stefan gave a little shiver as he felt the vampire nuzzle the side of a his throat, an old lick of anticipation reawakening inside of him. He felt Alaric’s lips brush against the sensitive skin, and his fingers reflexively dug into the teacher's back.

Alaric snapped back to reality, not having been truly conscious of his actions and quickly pulled back, forcing the veins to recede, he quickly apologized. "Sorry. I didn't--"

Stefan just shook his head, tight lipped. "Are you-- I mean, do you want to...?" it was almost asked shyly, certainly nervous.

"Stefan, we're not going to have this conversation if you can't even say the words." Alaric told him softly.

"I'm sorry, it's--" he squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Fuck. I let John get into my head." He ran the hand down his face and looked back at Alaric. "I don't think I've despised someone more in my life. Not Giuseppe, not Lucy, not even Katherine. I let that asshole into the middle of our relationship and that is not acceptable." His right hand fisted but he pressed his left flat on his thigh to stop it from curling it in symmetry. "I'm done letting that crispy bastard win." Alaric's eyebrow shot up at the name but Stefan ignored it. "I like when you feed from me; it makes me feel like I'm giving you something no one else can—even though I know that's just wishful thinking."

"It's not," Alaric whispered.

Stefan gave him a small smile. "Let's just say that we both rather enjoy it, it's both practical and pleasurable, and leave it at that. And I want that again, I want to be with you like that again." He swallowed nervously. "I really do, I--"

"Maybe we should start small, huh?" he took Stefan's right hand, his thumb brushing the inside of the brunette's wrist questioningly.

"Okay," he whispered, nodding.

Alaric rose his arm closer and ducked his head, his blue gaze looking up through his lashes at Stefan. Stefan tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, the sight both arousing and very reminiscent as the vampire brushed his nose against the strip of skin inside his wrist, his hand relaxing. It was like a ritual to the vampire, brushing his nose across the sensitive skin, inhaling deeply, scenting the flowing blood beneath the thin barrier; like scenting wine before that delicate sip. He could see it in his mind's eyes so clearly; them in his bed, naked and aroused, Alaric laying between his open legs, hand caressing his thigh, the tip of his nose brushing along the sensitive strip of skin of his femoral artery at the inside of his thigh, the rasp of his cheek stubble, the light brush of his lips, the enticing tease of his fangs before the bite.

Stefan came back to the present at the butterfly kisses on the inside of his wrist, a heat of arousal in his belly. Alaric silently asked his approval with his eyes, Stefan whispered "I love you," and felt the vampire's fangs sharply through the thin layers of skin. His cheek twitched at the minute pain before it smoothed out with Alaric's gentle sucking, nothing like the violent sharp pressure of John Gilbert feeding from his unconscious form. Being bampies was all the two had in common and that was where the buck severed, for which Stefan was immensely grateful. The tension in his shoulders he didn't consciously realize was there, defused. He reached up and his left hand stroked through Alaric's dirty-blond hair, and the vampire let out a powerful exhale of relief, eyes fluttering closed. He stopped sucking, released his fangs from the flesh, but kept his lips over the wound and just let the blood slowly fill his mouth like liquid chocolate.

Finally, Alaric withdrew, licking the blood from his lips. His feeding bite was bleeding freely, merely weeping. He kissed Stefan's palm, keeping a hold of his hand even as he lowered it between them. He looked across at the brunette.

"I missed you," Alaric whispered.

Stefan gave him a small smile. "I missed you, too."

Stefan reached up and pressed the pad of his thumb against the corner of Alaric's mouth, wiping away the bit of his blood. Alaric caught his hand before he could withdraw and pressed his lips to the bloody pad, cleaning it away with his tongue. Stefan caught his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes darkening slightly with arousal and a smirk turned the corner of Alaric's lips.

"I've eaten, what about you?" Alaric asked. "It's diner time, I can make you something."

"Are you offering to wear the apron?" Stefan teased.

"Well, my shirt does seemed to have become soiled." Alaric pointed out, glancing down at the stain on his stomach, the blood only a mild contrast against the cerise coloured material.

"Yes, it does." Stefan agreed. "I'll have to soak it in the machine to make sure the blood comes out." He ran his finger down the short row of buttons. "I really do like this shirt."

"Why is you talking about doing laundry sound so sexy?" he wondered, rising to his feet and pulling Stefan to his.

"Well, you know how domesticity turns _me_ on," Stefan joked, heading for the kitchen door, Alaric's hand in his. "Or maybe it's just all the potential future nudity you're thinking about. After all," he faced Alaric, walking backward through the kitchen, "You're wearing what I have to wash and I can't very well do that with them on you." He winked.

"Clever."

"You're not going to try and stop my diabolical plan to get you naked?" they made their way down into the basement.

"Now why in the hell would I do that?" the vampire returned to the brunette's absolute delight. "But you do know you don't need to make up excuses to get me naked, right?"

Stefan paused briefly at the bottom of the stairs in the basement before continuing, looking over his shoulder to Alaric following behind him. "I don't think you quite grasp exactly the type of freedom you're giving me, Ric."

"Oh?" Alaric stripped his bloodied shirt off overhead as they reached the laundry room, Stefan turning on the overhead light. "I guess you're just gonna have to show me."

The heavy make out session that started in the laundry room in the basement, accompanied with half-naked petting was quickly taken up to Stefan's bedroom, leaving the bloodied shirts to soak in the washer.

Alaric paused at the foot of the bed, cupping Stefan's face, looking at him intently, his thumb tracing his bottom lip. "I almost lost you and didn't even know," he uttered brokenly.

"I'm right here," Stefan whispered. He took one of Alaric's hands and pressed his palm against his chest, over his thumping heart. "Feel that? My heart is filled with more hope than ever, more than that... it's determined." He gave a little smirk, "And I can be one determined SOB when I'm of a mind." He pressed his hand over Alaric's. "I'm right here."

Alaric swallowed. "Good, exactly where I like you."

Stefan's cupped the nape of his neck and pulled his into a slow kiss. And though things slowed down, the passion was still there, burning in every kiss and touch like a brand of love, lust, and possession. They were reclaiming each other. Along with the feeding, the intimate touches petered out between them as Stefan withdrew further from Alaric and turned more to drink. It felt so good to touch the vampire again, taste him, feel him.

Stefan sat astride the dirty-blond's hard cock, undulating, his hands braced on Alaric's strong shoulders, his own hands upon Stefan's hips, assisting in the momentum. He could feel the human's pulse in his fingertips where they pressed against heated skin, his gaze focused solely on the brunette in his lap. This was one of Alaric's more favoured positions because it gave him one of the best vantages to see Stefan and see a lot. The breath puffing out from his slightly parted lips; the way his eyes would widen, hood, or flutter depending on where Alaric's cock touched him inside or Alaric's hand touched his own throbbing member; the small utters, grunts, groans, Ric's name whimpered; the bead of sweat rolling down defined peck, down over his abs, making the vampire want to follow the trail with his tongue; the bob of his Adam's apple.

Alaric rocked his hips up and Stefan uttered a small cry as his cock brushed his prostate. He sunk heavier forward on his hands. His eyes pricked as he looked down at Alaric beneath him. Damon was right about the sex, but not because of oxytocin; it was the intimacy, of being cared for, touch that made him cry out but not because it was painful. Driven from his mind by something pleasant and consuming, if only for that moment. Stefan's favourite position was any where Alaric was on top of him, draped over him, he loved the feel of the vampire's weight, to be enveloped, shielded. His fingers curled around Alaric's shoulders and he tugged, Alaric paused for a second before he understood and one hand brushed up the brunette's sweaty back before he flipped them.

Stefan moaned at the press of Alaric cock at their change in position, lifting his head from the pillow to kiss the vampire. Alaric's weight settled on him and his hips picked up, thrusting. Now, even better, the dirty-blond could feel Stefan's heart beat through into his chest like it was his own, and really, that was the truth of it—Stefan had become his heart. Stefan's legs wrapped around the vampire, his left arm wrapping around his side under his arm, fingers pressing into Alaric shoulder blade, his right fingers in the dirty-blond strands.

Stefan felt something building in his chest, but it wasn't like with Damon where he either needed to scream or strike out, it was almost like the freedom he felt falling from the roof, it was release. The bundle of barbed, negative emotion unravelling.

Even after they reached climax, Alaric didn't roll off him though he did carefully pull out before settling back down, his forehead pressed against Stefan’s equally sweaty temple as Stefan stroked his fingers lazily up and down the vampire's flank.

"I guess you'll still be wanting some food, huh?" Alaric said several minutes later, his lips brushing against the brunette's cheek.

Stefan opened his, blinking rapidly. "What?" he must have started to doze, which was a pleasant surprise but not unexpected after their previous activity and the emotional exhaustion from the back piazza.

Alaric rose up slightly on his elbow to get a look at his face. "Hungry?" his fingers traced long the side of Stefan's jaw.

Stefan turned his head slightly on the pillow and gave a small smile. "You did say you would make me something." But instead of getting up, he rolled them so he was half on top of Alaric, his head resting on his hairy chest. "I'm sorry I've been distant, that I pulled away from you, Ric." He whispered sombrely. "I wasn't coping well with what happened with John and Bonnie, and then I awoke things with Lucy that I didn't even know were just waiting there in the wings. I did the last thing I should have done, I internalized it, couldn't even write in my journal and I let them overwhelm me to point that I let them win." He rose his head, his green eyes glossy with unshed tears as he looked at Alaric. "I'm sorry."

Alaric sat them up but didn't pull away. "I was scared shitless when you told me, Stefan. And I was furious with myself because I knew something wasn't right and I was helpless to do anything, to give you the help that you needed. Like I've been useless every time you've needed me." He said, the bitterness directed at himself. "Every situation you've been in, Stefan, I've been useless." He looked away in shame. "I either make the situation more difficult to deal with or am just in the way; it's always either Damon or Bonnie that saved you."

Stefan shifted his legs over the side of the bed, using it to obscure the own shame he was feeling. Because while Alaric was blaming himself for being inadequate in these situations beyond their control, it was all just reminding Stefan how _weak_ he himself was. If he'd just been stronger, he never would have flipped the switch and nearly killed Damon. If he'd just been stronger, he could have finished Katherine off before she even got it into her head to kidnap Alaric, too, with that makeshift stake made from the wooden spoon. If he'd just been stronger, he could have killed John before he had to drag Bonnie into it to save him. He tried to keep his breath steady as ran his right hand over his face, but just the same he clenched it on his naked thigh. He was letting himself spiral into his guilt again, Alaric too, and it pissed him off!

"No!" he growled fiercely, causing Alaric's head to snap up and stare at him in surprise. Stefan turned to look at him. "It's not either of our faults. It's _their_ fault. Katherine, Lucy, John. They did this to us, yet we keep blaming ourselves—because you couldn't save me or I was too weak to save myself—we're just making excuses for them and it's enough." He surged to his feet and spun to the vampire. "I'm sick of feeling like that and I refuse to let you do the same to yourself."

Alaric grabbed his right wrist and pulled him back onto the edge of the bed, his nudity a little distracting for the serious conversation. "You're not--" he started, but Stefan interrupted, that phrase starting to make him want to pull his hair out.

"Have I ever told you about Sammy?" Stefan wondered suddenly.

Alaric shook his head, letting himself be distracted. "Who's Sammy?"

"Actually, Sammy is a different part of the story, but the two events happened on the same night." Stefan told him. "During the same dinner, in fact. It was Thanksgiving, 1846. I was 5 and Damon 12. Giuseppe accused Damon of stealing some money from his purse; even a drunkard, father was a shrewd business man and kept tight account of all the savings. Of course, Damon wouldn't do such a stupid thing (if he ever did, he certainly wouldn't be sloppy enough to get caught doing it) and denied it, but Giuseppe was already set on his decision of Damon's guilt and accused him of lying. Damon was adamant of his innocence of the matter, father didn't care if it was the truth, just that he was proven right. Father then not so subtly suggested that if Damon hadn't stolen the money, then _I_ must have." He made a scoff of derision and gritted his teeth in helpless frustration that the memory invoked. "And Damon quickly admitted to a guilt that wasn't his to save me from father's wrath. Giuseppe pinned his arm down on the table and held the lit cigar to him," his breath hitched and Alaric squeezed his hand, "And finished making us eat Sammy, the turkey Damon had named, before he dismissed us. Damon carried that scar with him for a dozen years and though it faded some over time, every time I saw it, I would feel such guilt. And my thoughts would always be the same; Damon got that scar to protect me, it never would have happened if I hadn't been there."

"Did you ever discover who stole the money?" Alaric asked quietly.

"No," Stefan shook his head. "We both just assumed it was a house servant, but we weren't going to bring the accusation to father, not when the subject was already dealt with and over. There was no point in making another pour soul suffer needlessly." He sighed. "What I'm getting at, Ric, is... I love you and I don't blame you for any of this, for anything. Do you hold me at fault?"

Alaric rested a hand on his forearm. "No, Stefan. No."

"There you have it," Stefan concluded simply. "Neither of us are to blame, therefore we have no reason to hoard this guilt."

"Just like that?"

Stefan gave a small shrug. "We could spend eternity playing the 'what if' game, god knows I'm a expert, but the truth is, it's all done, it's all over with. We can't change what's happened, but we can control how we each react to it. We alone hold the power to either be crushed and defeated by it, or we accept what has happened, actually learn from our mistakes, and move on with our lives. We turn events over and over in our heads, trying to find rhyme or reason of why or how, but no one can ever truly know all the facts, everyone else's decisions in that same moment and we just end up turning up guilt for ourselves and though it hurts us, it gives us an explanation." He paused and licked his lips. "The truth is... Damon would have been punished either way. For his admittance or denial, Giuseppe would see him penalized no matter what. Whether I was there or not, he would have found a way to force Damon's confession. The end result would always have been the same... Damon would have gotten hurt, and then I would feel guilt for not being there to stop it from happening. It's all just one big, vicious fucking cycle, Ric, and we feed into it. We can't help it, it's... human nature," he gave a bitter laugh. "Guilt is inevitable, but it's what we choose to do wtih that guilt that matters, right?"

Alaric reached up and gently stroked the brunette's cheek. "Yeah," he whispered quietly. "It's just easier to be swallowed by the guilt than it is to fight through it—like quicksand."

"Huh," Stefan said. "That's a rather accurate analogy, I can't believe I've never thought of that before."

"Glad to help." He muttered wryly.

"You do, Ric." Stefan agreed passionately. "The truth is... I would have done it sooner if I didn't have you. You have no idea how many times you saved me from the dark, hollow place in my head. And you have every right to be angry with me for what I did, if our roles were reversed I would have done more than throw a lounge chair across the yard."

"You make it sound mediocre," he commented drily, quiet amusement dancing in his blue eyes. "It made it well into the tree line, Stefan."

"Of course," he uttered seriously, struggling to contain the huge grin that wanted to cross his lips. "I didn't mean to demoralise your strength." Stefan shifted onto the bed and straddled the vampire's lap, arms going around his neck as Alaric's wound around his waist. "Is it weird that I found it kind of sexy?" his lips brushed the teacher's as he gently scratched his nails through the hairs on the vampire's nape.

A low growl emitted from Alaric's chest and he nipped at Stefan's lips, brushed across his cheek. "I find you very sexy," his voice was husky, and Stefan felt the heat in his belly at the sound.

Alaric's nose brushed under his jaw and Stefan tilted his chin up and slightly to the side, baring his jugular to the vampire. Alaric nuzzled against his throat. Stefan's fingers squeezed the nape of his neck, not in anxiety this time, but desire. A shiver went through the teen as he felt Alaric's nose draw up the side of his throat, the soft puff of breath against the skin, the brush of lips, the rasp of stubble against the sensitive skin. Stefan cock quickly firmed against the dirty-blond's hairy stomach and he same a small, needy sound.

"Bite me," he begged into the hair above Alaric's ear.

"Stef?" Alaric pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes, his eyes dark with lust and hunger.

"Bite me, Ric."

Alaric looked at him for a moment longer before he pressed a kiss to his lips and returned to his throat. The vampire mouthed the skin reverently for a minute, the brush of soft lips and prickly stubble causing the brunette to grind down on Alaric’s stiffening member, small groans leaving them both at the contact. Stefan gasped sharply as the vampire's fangs pierced his skin, pressing closer at the gentle, arousing, sucking pressure on his neck similar to receiving a hickey. If he was having flashbacks, they definitely didn't contain John Gilbert. Alaric's fingers pressed hard into his flank, a satisfied sound in his chest as Stefan's panted in his ear, rocking against the hard cock lined between his buttocks.

_How? How had I let John steal this from me for so long?_ Stefan lamented. When Alaric released his neck with a groan, Stefan tugged on a fistful of his dirty-blond strands, pulling his head back and crashing his mouth against the vampire's fanged and bloodied one. Blood from the feeding wound on his neck slowly trailed down his chest and back. Stefan came quickly pressed hard against Alaric's stomach, gasping into his mouth. At the warmth spreading through him, inside and out, Alaric gave a low groan as he came, sclera red and engorged veins under his eyes as Stefan watched him with lust darkened eyes.

"I'm the one supposed to be feeding you," Alaric finally said, his vampire features fading away to his regular ones.

Stefan’s thumb brush across his bottom lip, Alaric’s tongue chasing after. "And you will, no more distractions—just a quick shower."

Alaric chuckled. "Those were contradictory sentences if I ever heard them." He lifted the teen effortlessly as he stood from the bed and made his way to the en suite, the pair dripping blood and come.

Alaric set Stefan back on his feet on the cool tile of the shower stall. What blood the vampire didn't managed to lick away, was sadly washed down the shower drain. Stefan let Alaric tape a gauze pad over the feeding bite on his neck and right wrist and put on new buddy tape around his middle finger and broken ring finger as it started to come loose from unsanctioned activity and the shower. He swallowed a Tylenol before they went back into the bedroom for clothes.

"Where's Salvatore?" Alaric wondered as he buttoned his shirt after finally realizing what seemed out of place in Stefan’s bedroom, or rather what was missing.

"Oh," Stefan finished zipping his pair of old blue jeans. "He must still be in Damon's room." He pulled out a dark blue cotton t-shirt from his chest of drawers.

That caused the other man pause. "Damon's room as in your brother Damon? The same guy that's always threatening to eat the fish?" He paused. "Is Damon holding him as collateral?" Alaric asked seriously.

Stefan let out a surprised laugh, his shirt on halfway. "What? You mean like a hostage?" Alaric gave a little shrug. "No." Stefan pulled his shirt on the rest of the way, still slightly amused. "No," he said more seriously, clearing his throat. "I've been sleeping with Damon."

Alaric blinked at him blankly. "You're sleeping with Damon."

"He's been helping me with my nightmares," Stefan clarified, taking a step toward him, watching the vampire carefully. "It's a form of dream manipulation."

Alaric felt a dark shadow in his chest. He ignored the feeling with a chuckle. "Should I be jealous or concerned here, Stefan?" Jealousy was a completely different animal than guilt, that's what he told himself at least. It wasn't just another form of inadequacy he felt at once more at being the one unable to provide Stefan with the thing he needed. It was a blatant lie he told himself and put the matter to bed.

Stefan stroked his upper arm. "There's nothing to be jealous of, Ric. I always used to sleep in his bed as a kid."

Alaric released a breath through his teeth, rubbing Stefan's shoulders. The brunette wasn't shoving it in his face, yet it just added to the rage that had sparked to life earlier when Stefan told him he'd tried to kill himself. The lounge chair had just been one tiny spurt of release before he closed the valve. "Is it helping?" he murmured.

"You're staying the weekend?" Stefan questioned.

"If that's okay."

He gave a small smile in agreement. "Then we'll find out."

"I love you," Alaric said.

Stefan gave him a chaste kiss. "I love you, too." His hand brushed down Alaric's chest. "I like this shirt, too." That at least got a lip quark in response.

Stefan took his hand and led the way downstairs. He left Alaric in the kitchen to decide what to make for dinner and went down to the basement to finish laundry. He hopped onto the dryer with a quiet sigh as it tumble-dried the clothes from the machine, his finger rubbing idly at an irritating piece of tape on his neck, but a tiny smile tinted his lips. Damon had been right and Stefan knew he wasn't going to hear the end of it from his brother, but it would be worth it. When the dryer buzzed, he hopped off and started to fold the warm clothing, not terribly hindered by his broken finger. He paused for a moment to inspect Alaric’s cerise polo shirt and was happy to see he was able to get the blood out before it set. Basket full, he carried it upstairs and was embraced by the mouth-watering aroma of cooking food as he closed the basement door and set the laundry basket on the floor out of the way.

Alaric had his head in the fridge and knowing that the vampire was well aware of his presence, Stefan pressed against his back, arms wrapping around his apron-clad middle, almost reminiscent of days earlier with Damon, minus the butcher knife.

"It smells delicious," he murmured and pressed a kiss to the back of Alaric's neck. Alaric straightened and turned around in his arms, the door closing behind him. Stefan pressed him back against the stainless steel appliance in response. "And I love you in that apron," he nipped the man's chin.

Alaric chuckled, hands running down Stefan's flanks. "You always say that."

"They're both always true." Stefan nosed along his jaw and kissed the vampire's still jugular. "I have no reason to lie."

Alaric enjoyed the sucking sensation on the side of his neck, the teasing nip of Stefan's baby fangs. He gave an aroused shudder, his palm pressing the small of the brunette's back, pressing him closer as he felt the crotch of his jeans started to tighten. "It's almost finished," he managed reluctantly. "Don't want it to burn now."

Stefan gave a dissatisfied groan, but after one last enticing scrape of teeth, he pulled back. He only got a brief glimpse of the hickey on pale skin before it disappeared rapidly with speedy vampire healing. "Mm, you drive a hard bargain." He cruised down the teacher's front, gaze lingering on bulge in his crotch before he forced himself to step back against the counter island.

Alaric shifted. "Trust me, this hurts me more than you." He pushed from the fridge and headed for the stove to stir the simmering risotto.

"You sure?" Stefan challenged lightly, "Because you're looking plenty fine from where I'm standing."

Alaric chuckled lightly. "You always get dirty horny when I wear this."

"That's why you're such a tease." Stefan murmured. He continued in a very suggestive tone, "One of these days I really am going to get you into just that apron and I can promise that you won't be able to remember your own name, let alone mine when I'm finished with you."

Alaric swallowed, his stirring coming to a stop as his eyes closed briefly, a sound in his throat. He could see it all too vividly, _feel_ it just the same, the arousal and anticipation like a hot poker in his belly. He barely managed to stop his hips from jerking forward in instinct. He licked his lips, opened his eyes and continued to stir. "Don't incite my dick while it's near an open flame." He managed to say gruffly.

"I can always kiss it better," Stefan offered as the oven timer went off.

Alaric turned off the burner flame with a shake of his head. "I think _you're_ the tease." In response, Stefan swatted his backside as the vampire passed to the ovens. Alaric grabbed his right hand with vamp speed and spun them around, pinning the brunette back against the counter; Stefan gasped a little in anticipation looking into Ric's lust-darkened blue eyes. "Mr Salvatore, I suggest you put your hands to different use getting the plates before mine stop being so idle."

"Mr Saltzman," Stefan licked his lips.

Alaric's gaze flickered to his mouth. "It's good that you're not in my history class this semester or we'd have a real problem." He straightened and Stefan followed him. "Last semester was hard enough; no pun intended."

Stefan smirked. "Agreed. Two hours of staring at your ass, your mouth, your hands... it was like you wanted me to walk up to the front of the class and screw you against the chalkboard."

"Great," Alaric sighed. "Now that's all I'm going to be able to think about when I teach class." The brunette gave a shrug that was particularly unapologetic.

Stefan grabbed the plates and silverware as Alaric turned off the oven and with a oven mitt removed the oven-friendly skillet, the pair of chicken breast sizzling in the pan. He set it on a cold burner on the stove and Stefan held the plates as he served, the teen's mouth watering and stomach grumbling at the delectable aroma.

Stefan already knew the perfect wine pairing and grabbed the bottle from the wine fridge on the way to the dinning room. He poured a glass for Alaric as the vampire lit some candles to light their meal, but just had a glass of water for himself. To truly know that Damon's dream manipulation was working, he needed a sober head tonight; alcohol would just lower his defences.

_**~ T V D ~** _

Stefan called Elena and Bonnie and invited them over for Sunday night dinner; he'd put them off long enough and knew they deserved an explanation. He just wasn't sure what he was going to tell them, but he supposed he had the time to decide as he started to make the pasta dough for the lasagna he planned on making for dinner. He was going to make two lasagna dishes; the first your typical meat and tomato sauce, the second a vegetarian alternative. Freshly baked garlic bread and a side dish of bean salad. For dessert, chocolate soufflé.

Though he didn't want to worry them more than they probably were, they deserved to know the truth. That was why it had gotten so bad in the first place; he'd internalized, let his fears poison his psyche into believing killing himself was the best and only option for him. Maybe if he was still a vampire, it would have been considered simply an unhealthy coping mechanism, but a coping mechanism nonetheless; putting himself to temporary death, giving himself a minute reprieve instead of regrettably flipping the switch. But he didn't have that option. So, crudely put, he was going to have to buck up, hash out his fears, pull them from the dark and into the light to watch them catch fire and burn. That meant sharing with his loved ones, not just putting them to tangible ink on paper in his journal.

As he ran the pasta dough through the pasta maker over and over again, it eased the tension in his shoulders, calmed the anxiety in his head. He enjoyed to cook and he especially liked eating it, particularly now that his body knew when it was full, making it all the more satisfying. He made sure to crank it with his right hand. When he was finished getting the dough to the desired thickness, he carefully put the lasagna noodles into the bubbling water in the pasta pot on the stove. It was a process: he put 4 noodles into the boiling water for about 30 seconds, scooped them out with a wire skimmer and transferred them to a second pot filled with ice water to halt the cooking process. He was sweating by the time he finished the entire batch standing over the stove. He got Alaric's help to drain the large pots then rinsed the noodles, carefully squeezing away any excess water and lined the cooked noodles flat on a baking sheet, layered between parchment.

He had a lot of moving parts, and though he'd given himself time for error before the clock struck 6:30 and the witch and doppelganger turned up on the Boarding House doorstep; it was a relief to have Alaric as his acting sous-chef. They were both in aprons, sleeves rolled up, but the brunette only let that be a minute distraction. The bandage on Stefan's neck bite was gone, but because he was cooking he kept the bandage on his right wrist. The vampire took care of the minor details: measuring ingredients for him, reading from Stefan's old cook book that he'd dug out of the attic for Valentine's Day, his updates penned in the margins; doing all the chopping (which there was a lot for the veggie lasagna); and grating and shredding all the parmesan, mozzarella and ricotta.

Stefan cooked the meat in a skillet. In other pans he did the tomato sauce, veggie filling, and white sauce; taking a delighted spin through his spice rack. He took a taste of the simmering tomato sauce before he stirred the cooked meat back into the skillet. He hummed, both at the delicious taste and Alaric's chest at his back. "Want a taste?" In simple reply, the dirty-blond put a finger to his chin and turned Stefan’s head, licking into his lips. When he pulled back, Stefan was left to momentarily lean back against him, a little weak-kneed at the thorough kiss. Being wrapped in the vampire's arm would never get old.

Stefan had fallen asleep with Alaric fast enough, spooning against his side, head pillowed on Alaric's shoulder, who had his arm wrapped around him, Stefan's own left tucked safely and comfortingly under the pillow, a leg thrown over Alaric's for good measure, right hand resting on his chest. He had been comfortable and relaxed and could actually cuddle with the vampire, unlike with Damon who didn't have an issue with it when they were children.

He had started dreamless, and he could even remember vaguely the angel wings and grey eyes. It gave him the free-floating, stray thought that it might have been of his mother, the recent talk of her bringing the wonder to mind, but he dismissed it as quick as the thought had turned up. Lily had green eyes like him and the angel in his dream had grey eyes, the shade of pearl. But then his ghosts slithered in, taking over. He couldn't remember anything with true clarity, just a strobe of his tormentors like when he used to get his Ripper blood dreams; in a way, it was almost more terrifying.

Stefan opened his eyes to the dark pitch of the room, able to discern nothing visually. He hadn't jolted awake as such, merely opened his eyes. Beads of sweat coated his upper lip, his wife beater maybe a little damp and his breath had sounded so fucking loud in the dark of the quiet bedroom, his right hand fisted in the material of Alaric's cotton shirt.

The vampire wasn't asleep, Stefan didn't think he even was to begin with, his cool fingers brushing up and down the heated skin of his upper arm, over his rose tattoo. He knew Alaric held some guilt at having slept through Stefan's nightmares before and wasn't going to risk it this time; but that wasn't the dirty-blond's fault. Stefan didn't really have a tendency to thrash around unless under extenuating circumstance like Katherine's dream manipulations, it was something he'd trained in himself over the decades after he became a vampire and turned his humanity switch back on with Lexi's help. The last thing he needed was some unsuspecting human or even vampire trying to do the right thing and wake him from a nightmare, only for him to tear into their throat and tear off their head. It was a different story when he was a child. He would usually writhe and cry out when he was trapped in some frightening fever dream during his sick days but would usually calm down and still once Damon started to cuddle him and wipe his sweaty face down with a cool cloth. But even as a child when he had a nightmare, he tended to be quite still in his torment; some because he had the not so irrational fear of possibly waking his father in the night and inciting his anger, and his tendency to internalize didn't just pop up when he turned vampire.

Alaric kissed his crown and finally released him and Stefan turned off the flame burners. He shot a glance over his shoulder at Alaric who was busily clearing away the island counter for him. He bite the inside of his cheek as he remembered the look in the teacher's blue eyes when he told him about Damon's help with his nightmares using dream manipulation. His words, as unintentional as it had been, involuntarily incited the vampire's feelings of inadequacy that they had put to bed just half-an-hour before; Stefan had seen it in his eyes like a shadow.

As a vampire, Alaric had the same abilities as Damon. The teacher had potential for quite a lot down the line like the ability of dream manipulation, and maybe sometime in the future Stefan could show him the true potential of it. But right now it was just a skill the bampi didn't possess while Damon had 145 years of practice. But if that was all it was, Stefan would have been able to let it go, the same for Alaric... it was easier to let Damon in his head while he was asleep, unable to erect any defences, to let his brother witness the involuntary images that he could not yoke. Next to Lexi, Damon was the only other who knew his dirty and dark laundry, had experienced Stefan's darkest and most dire episodes, it was a casualty of being vampire brothers.

It wasn't that Stefan didn't trust Alaric, it's just that he wasn't ready. Despite how truthful he represented his thoughts in his journal, it would always come out a decimal off-center than what was in his head. To the best of his ability he translated the formless, mercurial emotions into something tangible, understandable to an outsider. But it would never be the same. He wasn't playing favouritism, he knew Alaric knew that, too, but emotions didn't have a tendency to be rational.

Stefan got out two large glass baking pans and proceeded to assemble the lasagnas, layering noodles, filling and cheese evenly, before covering each with foil. He slid them into the pre-heated oven, setting the timer to go off 15 minutes prior to the completed cook time so he could remove the foil. Alaric started opening various cans of beans for the bean salad and Stefan once again got out the jar of flour to make garlic bread from scratch.

"You're beautiful like this," Alaric murmured from across the island. The brunette had a smudge of flour on his cheek from back when he was making the lasagna noodles and rubbed his cheek with the back of his wrist; it was a struggle for the man not to reach across and rub it away with his thumb. It looked just so damn cute and sexy and he was definitely starting to understand Stefan's fantasies with the apron.

Stefan looked up from folding in the spices to his dough and chuckled even as he felt heat in his cheeks. "Yeah, okay."

"I mean it, Stefan."

"I guess I'll just have to take your word for it." He turned his attention back to the task at hand, a warmth in his chest.

"This is something you genuinely enjoy, isn't it?"

"Yes," Stefan agreed. "I wouldn't say I wouldn't be doing it otherwise," he gave a wry smirk, "But that just wouldn't be true." He paused, staring at the ball of dough in front of him. "I do love cooking... especially for the people I care about it. Food is... comfort." He gave his head a little shake and covered the bowl with the dough with tea towel to rise.

"Have you ever thought about being a chef?" Alaric sucked on the tip of his index finger, licking away the blood from the where he cut it on the edge of one of the can lids.

"I already am a chef, technically speaking," Stefan set the dough aside out of the way on the counter. "Or at least a Stefan Salvatore born 1923 and attended culinary school in the early 1940's is a chef."

"You know what I mean."

Stefan gave a small smile and leaned back against the counter. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I've had several careers in my time; carpenter, grave digger, farm hand, fire fighter, ambulance driver, mechanic—every time I had to start somewhere new, I did something new, became someone new. Never a chef, though. Professional kitchens can be hectic and high stress environments, add in close confines... one knife slip or out of control flambé," he snapped his right fingers, "And that would be end game."

"You were an ambulance driver, Stefan," Alaric pointed out. "In war time. If that didn't show you strength in your resolve to not lose control and feed on humans, I don't know what will."

"I actually did a second stint as an ambulance driver before in1994 in Chicago," he muttered. "Only stayed on for a couple months. The carvings got a bit much so I came home to recalibrate..." he pursed his lips to refrain from mentioning the catastrophe that happened and stripped Zach of his Happily Ever After. He swallowed and straightened, gave himself a mental head shake. "But it's something to consider now that I don't have a blood problem—either of them." He mused.

"You should," Alaric told him sincerely.

"I'll think about it." Stefan really hoped there was a time in his future where he’d even have to think about something as mundane as what he was going to do as a career.

Alaric finished fixing the bean salad with a dressing Stefan easily whisked together, and since the garlic bread didn't have to go in the oven until the foil timer went off, the brunette got to work on prepping the chocolate soufflé. They would easily be able to sit wrapped in the fridge until it was time to put in the oven come dessert.

Stefan looked to the vampire, brow a little quirked. "Was that the doorbell?" Alaric nodded, a similar expression on his face. "I'll get it. Make sure nothing burns? the timer's going to go off any minute now." Alaric nodded and Stefan gave him a peck as he passed. He pushed through the two-way door with his shoulder, cleaning his hands off on the tea towel over his shoulder as he walked down the hall to the front door.

They didn't get many visitors at the Boarding House, particularly strangers who rang the bell.

He opened the front door, his brow furrowed as he silently stepped back to allow the pair into the entrance hall, closing it again. "Since when do you ring the doorbell?" he inquired, looking between the two teenagers.

The witch and doppelganger exchanged a glance as the shed their jackets and shoes. "Just respecting your privacy, Stefan." Bonnie said.

Stefan couldn't help the frown at the corner of his mouth at her words. He had alienated their friendship, he knew, hence the dinner. "You're both my friends, you're are always welcome, which means you don't ring the doorbell," he said sincerely. He glanced at Elena, some humour in his eyes, "You _own_ the house, Elena, remember?" he sighed when it only got him a weak smile. "I know I haven't been handling things well and keeping you two at arms length, I want to tell you how sorry I am. It was neither of your fault, it was me, but I had a big wakeup call and realized how much I could have lost. It was unacceptable."

"Did something happen?" Elena asked worriedly, reaching out to touch his arm.

"What John did to me affected me deeper than I anticipated," he admitted, swallowing and licking his lips. "I let him get to me, even more than I did Katherine, but I'm doing better now so can we stop being weird, please?" he glanced between them.

He pulled the strap of the apron off overhead and let it fold down at the waist where the strings were tied, negating any food spatter on the material. Stefan only had to wait a moment before he gladly found his arms full of witch and doppelganger alike. He might have squeezed Bonnie a little tighter, it was just good to see her outside all the deaths she suffered in his nightmares, either at his hands or John's fangs. When they pulled back, Bonnie and Elena were giving him amused looks, attempting and pretty much failing at suppressing their grins with bitten lip or cheek.

"What are you two smirking about?"

"Stefan, you..."

"What?"

Elena just shook her head and licked the pad of her thumb and rubbed his cheek, doing what Alaric had resisted. "You had flour."

"Oh," he rubbed his cheek. He turned and called down the hall, "You knew that was there the whole time and didn't say anything."

Alaric chuckled and popped his head out the door. "I couldn't resist, you looked adorable." Stefan muttered under his breath, feeling embarrassed.

"He is right," Bonnie said. "And it completed your ensemble." She gestured at him. They followed him down the hall. "It smells really good, Stefan." She smiled.

"Well, I hope you're both hungry, I made plenty." He said. "It's almost done." He pushed through to the kitchen.

Elena took a deep inhale. "It smells even better in here!"

"I removed the foil," Alaric told the brunette, nodding his greeting to the girls.

"I know this says that Ric is the appetizer," Stefan gestured at the vampire's apron, "But hands off, ladies, it's a private tasting," he joked and they chuckled; it was Alaric's turn for a little embarrassment. Stefan put the baking sheet of raw garlic dough in the second pre-heated oven below the lasagna.

"Where's Damon?" Bonnie posed the question.

"Andie's I assume." Damon deserved the weekend after once again taking on the role of warden to Stefan's house arrest, and with Alaric 'taking over watch' he didn't have to worry about Stefan trying something so stupid again, not that the brunette had any intentions of doing so. He started to tidy up the island.

"What happened to your fingers?" Elena questioned, noticing the tape.

"Your ring?" was Bonnie's follow-up.

"It's okay, I just broke my finger." Stefan told them. "The ring's under the tape."

Bonnie stepped to him and silently requested for his hand. He held it up and she gently cupped it between both of her warm palms. "How have you been feeling?" she asked. "It's been longer than usual since I've checked the magic balance."

"I've been feeling good," Stefan said truthfully. Bonnie was silent for a moment as she focused, her shaped brow quirked a little. "What's wrong?"

She looked up but didn't release his hand. "Nothing, just surprised."

"Why?" Alaric asked.

"I expected it to be more depleted, is all." She confessed. "You haven't been taking vampire blood, obviously." The feeding mark mostly hidden by his shirt collar and his broken finger were obvious proof of that.

"Does this mean he's getting better?" Elena wondered tentatively; and a quiet hope filled everyone’s eyes as they looked at the witch, putting on the pressure.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I would have to check your aura--"

"No!" Stefan instantly. "The last time you did that I siphoned your magic without any control and then you go blasted away from me."

Bonnie would admit that the prospect was frightening for her, too. "I just don't see any way else, Stefan."

"Bonnie." Stefan looked her directly in the eyes. "That's not happening again." He said firmly.

They all started when the oven timers went off. Stefan turned off the ovens and with donned oven mitts, Alaric removed the baking dishes and put them on the cooling rack. Stefan took down a stack of plates from the cupboard and set them on the counter island. Momentarily distracted by the food, Stefan cut each lasagna into 12 pieces with a butcher knife and with a spatula served everyone's preference and they were free to take their share of garlic bread and bean salad.

Bonnie lingered by the island next to him with a determined frown, and Elena hesitated at the kitchen door with the plate looking back at them. Stefan jerked his chin at Alaric and the vampire put a hand on Elena's back and with a quiet "Come on, Elena" and left for the dining room with the reluctant doppelganger, her plucked brows knitted in concern.

"What aren't you telling me, Stefan?" Bonnie said promptly and directly as the two-way door swung closed back and forth.

Stefan drummed his index finger on the edge of the counter for a moment before looking across at her. "I don't believe I've gotten better, but I think the ring's magic isn't as depleted as expected is because I've been absorbing from a different source of magic." He informed the witch.

Bonnie's brow arched. "You have? From where?" was her concern.

"Damon."

She gave her head a brief shake in confusion. "What do you mean? You said you weren't drinking his blood."

"I'm not." Stefan said. "I've been siphoning his Power."

"How?"

"Damon's been helping me with my nightmares... via dream manipulation." He explained, "The reason I think I can't be compelled is because my body absorbs the magic that the compulsion is made of—that's essentially what compulsion is; your desires magically reinforced and implanted into someone subconscious—and I think the same thing is happening here."

"But is the dream manipulation working?" she wondered. He nodded. "Why would dream manipulation affect you when compulsion doesn't?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But they feel completely different. Some of Damon's first compulsion did have an effect, I _think_ , for a brief time, or maybe it was just because I really didn't want to go into the dining room so soon after--" he gave his head a little shake, it still scared him to look at Alaric's name written in his blood on the cherry tabletop. "It was a good excuse not to face myself."

"This was when he was 'redecorating' the dining room?" she did quotation marks.

He gulped. "I had a... flashback Ripper episode. My... ritual at the time, particularly gruesome in Chicago. I destroyed the room," Stefan confessed in old shame and embarrassment. She briefly squeezed his bicep in reassurance. "I really can't say why his dream manipulation would work and not his compulsion, the concepts are the same, both a form of mind manipulation, telepathy."

"Perhaps because you desperately want it to work," she suggested, "You're not fighting it like compulsion."

"I've thought of that, too." He agreed.

Bonnie thought about what it had felt like to have her magic siphoned so violently without defence or warning, how it left feeling like her _soul_ had been drained, leaving her shock-y. Even without delving in to check his aura she knew from the Gilbert ring that the absorption rate had slowed, but even she'd admit—under torture perhaps—that she was an ounce worried about the effect on the raven-haired vampire. "And how is Damon... fairing with it?" she questioned awkwardly to his amusement, she made a small face in response.

"He hasn't said anything, but I know how draining dream manipulation can be in regular circumstances. He just drains a blood bag, and makes caustic remarks that I offer up a vein." Stefan rolled his eyes. "I offered once, he refused though, brushed it off with some sarcastic comment. I think it made him uncomfortable." He mused

"Wow, something actually makes Damon Salvatore uncomfortable?" Bonnie smirked. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Stefan gave a small chuckle. "We all have our off-days, even Damon."

Lasagna still steaming, garlic bread still warm, the pair took their plates and joined the vampire and other doppelganger in the dining room.

"Everything alright?"

Alaric let Elena do the dirty work of asking the question after they sat at the table. Having eavesdropped with his vampire hearing in spite of himself and to his own shame as his jealousy buried in its shallow grave did a classic zombie movie and came reaching out of the dirt when Stefan mentioned offering Damon his blood. He may have involuntarily bent his fork and inconspicuously straightened the metal again when Elena was distracted by her food.

"Of course," Bonnie assured the doppelganger next to her, "Especially now that I finally get to eat this baby!" she picked up her fork and finally took her first bite of the lasagna that had been making her mouth water and stomach grumble since she stepped through the front door. "Mmm!" she couldn’t help the moan of appreciation and it reminded Stefan of the first time he brought her a cupcake as a surprise, making him smile. "You know exactly the way into my heart, Stefan Salvatore." She dug in.

Elena chuckled. "You know, it's been a while since you've been over for dinner, Stefan."

"Oh? And is this some roundabout way of saying _I_ may be the one to do the cooking?" Stefan wondered.

She gave the other brunette an innocent smile. "It was kind of agreed when you came over after New Year's."

"I agree with your not so subtle terms of returning to your house," he joked, "After all, you Gilberts need some real home cooking once in a while if you hope to survive the year. And Jenna deserves a break."

Elena grinned. "It's a family date."

Stefan squeezed Alaric’s thigh affectionately out of view under the table with his left hand as they and Alaric gave him a soft smile. The brunette couldn't believe he'd wasted 4 weeks of this to a drunken buzz.

"Are you coming to school on Monday?" Elena asked as they digested dinner and were waiting for the soufflés to come out of the oven.

"Yeah," Stefan nodded. It would be better to get back to his life out there than continue to hide from it here. "If it's not too much trouble... can we carpool?"

They shared a quick look. "Of course, Stefan." Elena gave him a gentle smile. "Which vehicle do you prefer?"

"I feel like that may be a trick question," he replied wryly. "I'll leave that up to you two."

Bonnie laughed. "Such a guy answer. We also brought the work you missed, can't have you fail your final year of high school."

"You guys are such great friends," Stefan deadpanned, making them laugh.

The girls left around 10:30 but not before he packed them a doggy bag of leftovers, giving enough to Elena to also feed Jeremy and Jenna for supper tomorrow.

"Are you sure it's not too much," Elena felt the need to ask even as she hugged the food container to her chest. "Won't Damon want some?"

"I already set a plate aside for Damon." Stefan told her.

Alaric had come to notice that Damon never really consumed anything other than blood and bourbon unless Stefan was the one cooking something. Stefan got his homework from them and hugged them goodbye. He started on some of the working in the kitchen while Alaric played dishwasher. The vampire left shortly after just before midnight.

...

Stefan heated up Damon's plate of leftovers when his brother finally rolled back in that Sunday around midnight, pouring him a pairing of Italian Chianti. Damon sat on a stool at the counter island to eat.

"How was Andie?" Stefan inquired politely. He couldn't say he had a good track record for liking the women that his brother decided to 'date', like Charlotte back in 1942 in New Orleans, the woman had been infatuated with his brother and Damon turned her. When Stefan had gone to bury the hatchet with his brother for 1912, the vampire had tossed a heavily bleeding woman carelessly into Stefan's arms in the middle of a crowded bar, covering him in blood. Thankfully, Lexi had been there with him, stopped him from going savage in the crowd and shattering 20 years of work to become sober off human blood. And Andie still made him uncomfortable even though Damon had compelled her to forget about his and Alaric's relationship. Thankfully Damon stopped bringing her around, or at least when Stefan was home.

"Delicious." He smirked.

Stefan rolled his eyes at the answer that shouldn't have surprised him, of course Damon couldn't just give him a real, human response to the question to his... girlfriend's general welfare. He sighed. "If you say so."

Damon glanced across at him as he took a bite of meat lasagna. "Looks like someone took my advice," he noted, blue gaze flickering to the feeding mark on his neck, the one on his wrist bare.

"It was hardly at your heeding," Stefan deadpanned. "Don't try and take credit Ric and I doing what people in relationships do."

"Sure, sure." He returned to his food. "Whatever you say, baby brother. Bet Ricky got jealous when you told him we were sleeping together... if you told him at all."

"Why wouldn't I?" Stefan challenged. "I told him everything."

"Really?" Damon straightened. "Did you tell Elena and Bon Bon about your little trip off the roof?"

Stefan pursed his lips. "They don't need that thought in their heads, they don't deserve that."

"Too bad you didn't have such consideration for the rest of us," Damon returned coldly.

Stefan's expression turned sad and pained. "I'm sorry, Damon."

"Save your 'sorry's', brother. Just don't do it again," he drained his glass, setting it down with a clink and returned to his food with nothing else to say.

Stefan breathed in the silence.

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**


	26. CHAPTER 25: Interlude 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Includes/Spoilers/WARNING:** dream manipulation, dream sharing, feeding,

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Their teeth clashed as they kissed hungrily, fingers clawing to rid themselves desperately of clothing, to feel skin against skin. Alaric's calves bumped against the foot of the bed and with a blur of speed, he flipped them, putting Damon underneath him.

Damon groaned, arching beneath the vampire, grinding their hips together.

"You're beautiful like this," engorged veins pulsed to the surface beneath the teacher's eyes, "Good enough to eat."

"Then do it," Damon panted. He shivered as he felt stubble prickle against the sensitive skin, soft lips and tongue against his pulsing artery.

"Stefan," the vampire moaned.

Damon’s dark brows pinched and he looked up to see John above him, skin charred black, flaking, his sclera dark red. A chuckle stretched his burnt lips. Blood oozed from the charred skin as it cracked, making Damon flinch as it dripped against his own.

"No," he uttered.

John didn't give him a choice as grabbed his chin and forced it to the side. Damon's struggle was futile against the superior strength, his heart hammering against his ribcage. John's fangs gleamed wicked and sharp in his blackened maw and he lunged down with a ravenous snarl, his razor fangs tearing into Damon's carotid with abandon—Damon jerked awake and upright in his bed, a shout stuck in his throat, disorientated for a moment with his hand pressed to the side of his throat, the pain of fangs tearing into his neck vivid.

But the heartbeat he was zeroed in on was a calm steady rhythm that didn't belong in his own chest. He dropped his hand to his blanket covered lap and looked to the side. Stefan shifted slightly at his movement but fell quickly back into slumber, curled on his side, a foot separating them despite the excess space of the king-sized bed. In sleep like this, his forehead smooth, his lips slightly parted and without frown, Stefan was shed of the 146 year weight on his shoulders and almost looked 10 again.

Damon turned away. He threw off the blanket and climbed swiftly from his bed. He padded across the hardwood floor in bare feet in nothing but dorm pants to his chest of drawers and poured himself a shot of bourbon and downed it. He poured himself another and drank it more slowly as he watched Stefan sleeping in bed across the room. All he could hear was his brother's gentle breathing, the buh-bump of his contracting heart and it just made his hunger grow. All he could think was that Stefan owed him this. Stefan was draining all his Power on a nightly basis, the least the brunette could do was offer up a warm supplement.

Damon found himself at the edge of the bed, looking down at the teen as he shifted onto his back in his sleep, his head falling to the side of the pillow, baring his throat. Damon's gaze was riveted to the long column of his brother's throat, feeling the skin under his eyes tingle.

Stefan awoke, blinking up at his brother in confusion to find the vampire straddling him. "What the hell, Damon? Get off." Stefan made to push him off but Damon grabbed his wrists and pinned them on either side of his head against the bed, feeling the rapid pulse in Stefan's wrists against the palms of his hands. "What are you doing?" he strained against him but the vampire didn't give an inch.

Veins crawled under Damon's eyes, making the brunette gulp. "I'm hungry, little brother. You drain my Power like some demented sponge and I'm fucking starving."

"Y-- you can't be serious." He scoffed nervously, hands flexing.

"You offered before and I'm here to collect." Stefan shook his head against the pillow, lips pressed into a bloodless line. "You owe me, brother." He growled.

Stefan swallow convulsively, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, drawing the vampire's hungry gaze. His heart was beating a fast tempo against his breastplate and the edges of Damon's eyes blurred as his sclera got ready to flood with blood. They stood out in stark contrast against the deathly pallor of his skin, the veins engorged under his eyes almost black with the intensity of it.

Stefan stared at his brother with searching eyes before he licked his lips, his breaths coming in short pants and he turned his head on the pillow, baring his throat to the vampire. Damon's sclera flooded instantly at the invitation and his lip peeled back to reveal his wicked set of double fangs. He leaned forward and sunk his fangs into the taut, flushed skin the side of Stefan's neck. The brunette bit back a sound. Hot blood spurted into Damon's thirsty mouth. He drank greedily for a moment, almost got lost in the blood lust before he pulled back, mouth dripping with his baby brother's blood—and froze in surprise as Stefan gave a sharp exhale in his sleep as a drop of blood dripped onto the side of his neck from where it trickled from Damon's fang torn bottom lip as he loomed over his slumbering brother.

Damon blurred from his bed and to the safety of his en suite. In the dawn light coming through his bathroom windows he looked at his reflection in the mirror above his basin sink. Bare chest panting, he forced his fangs away, a line of blood down his chin. He bent over the basin, splashing water over his face and rinsing out his mouth. He knew it was his own blood but all he could remember was sinking his fangs into Stefan's neck and the euphoric taste of his hot blood; which was ridiculous because he'd never tasted Stefan's blood before.

Sure, he teased the brunette about opening a tap, had thought about taking up Stefan's offer in his bedroom for a split second, call it curiosity, but that was all. The feeling he got whenever he saw one of Alaric's feeding bites marring his baby brother's skin was purely big brother protective instinct and let's call the conversation over.

There was no doubt that the first was Stefan's nightmare, just with Damon superimposed in his brother's position as he took the dream and experienced it. His defences were down with overuse of his Power; typically he'd be able to take the dream from Stefan’s subconscious without that consequence. But that second one, Damon could only believe that it was his and he only hoped to god that he hadn't accidentally shared it with Stefan. He definitely didn't want to have the conversation that would surely follow if he did, it was annoying enough that he had it in the first place. It was just his hunger talking, forced the listen to Stefan’s pumping heart for 8 straight hours with no other distraction.

He patted his face dry with a hand towel.

He'd been particularly possessive of Stefan, especially in their younger human years when Stefan was still a sickly child. He'd been practically everything to Stefan at one point or another; brother, best-friend, nursemaid, a mother, a father. Damon was the one that protected him like a big brother, horsed around with him like a best-friend, fixed the buttons on his shirt and bathed him in his sickness like a nursemaid, taught him to horseback ride and swim like a father, sang him to sleep like a mother.

All of that had gotten lost in the translation of his anger, resentment, jealousy, and heartbreak. But things could never just go back to the way they were between the brothers before Katherine Pierce entered their lives. Damon didn't think he even wanted to go back to that either; it didn't matter though, they were where they were now. Damon had his own moments now and Stefan was never one to be babied for long.

Living Stefan's sex-dreams/nightmares was one thing... Damon needed to put a stop to their little sleeping arrangement before eating his brother stopped being some vivid dream and became a reality.

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 


	27. CHAPTER 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Includes/Spoilers/WARNING:** smut, feeding, gang outing

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Stefan once again awoke in Damon's bed; he had migrated over to the vampire's side, a tendency he also had when Alaric left the bed. He rolled onto his back, stretching pleasantly, only to splutter and gasp as he got water thrown unexpectedly in his face.

"What the hell was that for?" Stefan demanded, glaring up at his brother through the water in his lashes.

"You're going to school again, remember?" Damon spun the drinking glass in his palm. "In order to do that you have to be awake."

"I was already awake," Stefan pointed out. "And you couldn't have just said 'Stefan, wake up'?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Yeah, well," Stefan threw off the covers and climbed from the king. "Now your sheets are wet—have fun changing them before they soak through to the mattress." He pulled up the hem of his wife beater and dried his face as he went to the bureau where Salvatore sat in his new fishbowl and sprinkled some flakes in the water.

"And where do you think you're going?" Damon crossed to the chest of drawers and poured bourbon into the conveniently held glass.

Stefan paused in his journey to the door halfway across the bedroom, cocked his head and turned on his heel to face his brother. "Did one of us spontaneously get concussed in the 2 minutes since we had the conversation where it was stated that I'm going to school or...?"

"No, Stefan." He rolled his eyes. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Stefan looked at him for a moment. "You want a hug goodbye...?"

"Nice try." Damon snorted. "Now who's the one spontaneously concussed? Does it look like my entire personality did a 180? No. Try again,"

Stefan threw up his hands. "I don't know, Damon. I give up, what did I forget?"

"Klaus," Damon threw his thumb behind him with a raspberry. "Take it with you and don't bring it back." He took a drink.

Stefan's gaze flickered from Damon to Salvatore behind him with crinkled brows and slowly approached. "Why do I get the feeling you're breaking up with me?" he was only half-joking as he frowned at his brother.

"Well, I guess it's because in a sense I am." Damon clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm bored of you, no offence, it's just your personality." He smirked.

Stefan shrugged his hand off and glowered. "I'm serious."

"So am I. The years of you crawling into my bed in the middle of the night are gone. I've indulged you long enough, baby brother. Time to grow up." He dismissed the brunette.

"I know your mad at me--"

"Mad? Mad doesn't even begin to cut it, brother. But that's neither here nor there." He gestured his glass. "I've babied you long enough, it's time to leave papa's nest. Flutter away, little bird." He turned away.

Stefan gave an injured scoff, staring at his brother's back. "I see. Being my brother is just a whimsy for you. It comes and goes as the mood strikes you."

"I'm not Lexi, Stefan." Damon uttered, draining the glass and slamming it down.

"No, you're not Lexi," he agreed. "You just killed her."

"Ugh, you're never going to let that go, are you?" he turned back.

Stefan regarded his brother bitterly. "I have no choice _but_ to let it go, Damon, otherwise the hate would consume and break me." But in this instant all he could think was: _you stopped me from seeing her._

Damon must have seen something of the thought burning in his angry gaze because his hand shot out and he grabbed a fistful of Stefan's damp wife beater, jerking his brother close and stretching the thin material, pulling him up to the balls of his bare feet. "There have been close calls, Stefan, but this was **too** close."

"I know." He said stoically.

"Do you?" Damon gave him an aggressive shake.

" **Yes**." Stefan hissed.

Damon held him for a charged moment longer, his blue eyes narrowed, before he finally released him. "Good." He clapped him on the cheek. "Now go."

Stefan pursed his lips and turned from his brother. He put the small fish food container in his flannel pants pocket and carefully picked up Salvatore's bowl. He passed his brother toward the door. "You're my big brother, you're supposed to keep the monsters away." He whispered. Stefan didn't have time to fear monsters under the bed or the closet; he had Giuseppe and Katherine.

Damon blurred in front of him, blocking his path and forcing him to stop short before crashed into him and dropped Salvatore.

"All your monsters are long dead and gone, Stefan. The only monster you're using me to cower behind is yourself. The only monster you're struggling with now is _you_."

Stefan involuntarily paled at the pointed observation, his breath hitching in his throat. ' _You just use the title 'Ripper of Monterey' to separate yourself from the ghoul, a worthless attempt to try and detach yourself from the truth.'_ John's voice hissed in his ear. "You've made your point," Stefan uttered and tried to move passed.

"Have I, Stefan?" Damon side stepped in front of him.

Stefan gritted his teeth, tears burning behind his eyes. "Oh, trust me. I read you loud and clear, brother. "There was nothing like hearing the cold truth from the ones you love.

"Because I don't think you're hearing what _I'm_ saying, just what comes out of that guilty, self-resenting filter in your head." He tapped Stefan's temple, causing the brunette to flinch and slosh the fishbowl. "You need to hear me. Stop hiding behind your guilt and the ghosts you keep resurrected." Damon grasped his shoulders firmly. "It's all in your head, Stefan, so get out of it. Get out of your own way!"

Stefan wanted to give a bark of bitter, hollow laughter and scream. Wanted to say _"Don't you think I already know that? Do you think that enacting the solution is as easy as shoving it in my face? Is it was that easy don't you think I'd be out there, living, happy?_ " Instead, he sighed and said, "Can I go now?"

Damon inhaled deeply through his nose. "I meant what I said, Stefan. No more cheap band aids, don't come back." He released his brother and headed for his en suite without looking back, tugging the drawstring on his silk pyjama pants loose as he went.

Stefan went to his bedroom, closing the door behind him with his hip. _Just breathe._ He set Salvatore's bowl on the reading table and went over to his dresser, giving the empty space where he usually put Salvatore a scathing look. _Don't worry._ If he wasn't going to put the comet goldfish back into the tainted bowl of death, he definitely wasn't going to put him in the death spot. He started to rearrange his shelf, shifting things around a little more sharply than strictly needed. _It's fine._ He released a breath and placed Salvatore on his new spot on the shelf. He’d gotten new, clear blue pebbles to line the bottom of the bowl, a new astronaut figurine, and some plant life rooted in the pebbles to one side. _I am not freaking out._ Stefan grabbed some clean clothes and took them to his en suite, stripping from his nightclothes and stepped into the shower. He pretended the sharp gasp covered by the sound of the running water was because of the shock of the cold spray.

He knew that Damon was right because he'd already had the same argument with himself and obviously lost but it wasn't like he was winning either. Dream manipulation was just duct tape holding his psyche together and while it could last for a while, it deteriorated and depreciated as time passed. It was a band aid to a bullet wound, it was only a matter of time before he bled through.

_No, it's fine. It's all going to be fine._ Stefan blew out a slow breath as he stuck his head under the spray and rinsed the shampoo from his hair. He had approximately 17 hours to find a solution and until the end of that clock, it was just a problem that he wouldn't have to face until later tonight, much later.

...

It was 2 a.m. and Stefan was wide awake. He could feel the tiredness in his eyes yet he couldn't seem to fall asleep. 17 hours wasted as he failed to come up with a plan that didn't include self-medicating with the various over the counter medicines stocking his medicine cabinet, or downing several shots of whisky as the clock struck midnight and he made himself crawl into his own bed. It didn't help that his own bed felt like a stranger to him after spending so long in Damon's king, his brother a comforting presence as he slept.

He huffed in frustration at himself. He couldn't believe he thought now was the time to wing it, Damon-style. Stefan didn't think he had 'winged it' in his life. Ignorance was bliss until bliss lead you unawares into the pits of misery; he'd learned that the hard way with John. He'd made his assumptions, assumed it as truth, and it left him unawares to be bitten in the ass. But simply laying in bed and trying to sleep was not getting him anywhere; he was a cross between relieved (to not have to possibly face more nightmares) and aggravated (to not know if he might not have). _Get out of your head, get out of your own way._ Stefan also didn't think that was a possibility, but if he did nothing he was going to drive himself insane.

Making his decision, Stefan turned on the bedside lamp and climbed from bed. He slipped his discarded pair of jeans on, some socks, and zipped on a hoodie. He grabbed his satchel, dumped out the schoolwork and grabbed some things to put in the bag that he may or may not need. Stuffed his cell phone and car keys into his hoodie pocket and left his bedroom via his bedroom door; he wasn't going skulk out his balcony doors. Other than that making Damon go over the edge, he wasn't running away, he had intentions so he wasn't going to sneak out his window like some rebellious teen to some party. If Damon was awake, he didn't stop Stefan as he slipped on his boots in the entrance hall and left through the front door; and the brunette thought the only reason Damon didn't was because he didn't hide his intention of leaving, even if it was 2:30 in the morning.

He got into his Porche Karmanne Coupe, throwing his satchel onto the passenger seat and pulled down the winding drive, his headlights cutting through the dark. He drove toward town, the radio off, the car silent but for the wind rushing through his open door window. And in what felt like no time at all, Stefan pulled his car over to the side of the laneway and parked outside the cemetery. He grabbed his satchel and put the strap over his head after he got out of the car. He went to the bonnet at the front, and took the flashlight out of the roadside kit in the trunk. He closed it with a sigh, flicking on the flashlight.

The old wrought iron gate creaked as he pushed it open, the screech cutting cringingly through the silence to briefly quiet the nocturnal wildlife but as he closed the gate by the time he turned back the activity resumed. He kept the flashlight on as he walked down the main path despite motion triggered lights that lined it. While the town funded the general maintenance for the cemetery, like the main path and the lighting, it was the families that paid to keep the family plots maintained. So it was typically the 'newer' sections that were better looked after than say the distant family that died a century ago. Now that he was human, the scuffling and call of the animal nightlife in his current setting was slightly eerie, but he easily pushed passed it; for the longest time he was a representation of death, and Damon had been right that Stefan was responsible for lining many of these overgrown graves. He gave his head a shake, his loud breathing probably discouraged anything from getting ideas more than the quiet crunch of his buckle boots on the gravel.

Soon, the motion lights petered out as he ventured further back in the graveyard and he was relying solely on the beam of his flashlight off the path and among the tombstones. His eye trained on the ground in front of him, he was careful not to get his feet caught in the long, tangled grass or protruding tree roots, (the last thing he needed was to trip and crack his head on a headstone, it would just be a little too poetic), until his path became more traversable and he shortly came upon his destination.

Stefan stopped and turned to face the grave, the flashlight beam like a spot light on the new headstone; John Gilbert's name jumping out at him. He lowered himself to the edge of the rectangle of packed dirt John's body and casket resided beneath, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing deeply as ragged and raw emotions swirled up inside of him. Right now, sitting here, it mostly felt like a tornado of helpless anger.

His teeth gnashed. The plastic of the flashlight handle creaked under the pressure of his white-knuckled fist. His finger ached from the strain he was putting on it but it wasn't the sharp pain that accompanied a _broken_ digit. He opened his eyes and looked down, the medical tape around his middle and ring fingers had tore. Stefan forced his had to release the flashlight and he set it in the grass next to him. He peeled the broken tape from around his fingers and laid his hand uncurled on his knee. It had been 2 weeks since that first night in Damon's bed when he slammed his fist into the headboard, fracturing his proximal phalanx; it typically took 3 to 4 weeks to heal but just like the swelling had gone down exceptionally fast, so seemed the case for healing. He wondered if it had anything to do with absorbing Damon's Power nightly the past 2 weeks.

Stefan rose his gaze to the headstone. "You don't get to hurt me anymore," he whispered firmly. "I won't let you. My broken finger is the last pain I'll let you cause me, John." He pulled his satchel into his lap and pulled out his journal, unwinding the cord. He flipped through the pages until he found the one he wanted and carefully tore it from the spine, leaving no bits behind, as if it were never there in the first place. The beige coloured page was stained with a large black ink splotch. Every night that he sat with the journal and a bottle of whisky, the pen poised on the paper, still, ink leaking from the tip to soak into the fibres of the page like poison from his body. "I forgive you, John. I'm done hurting because of you; hurting myself, hurting the people I love." He leaned forward and dug a hole into the dirt of the dead man's grave, tucking the folded page from his journal into it. "So, I'm letting your poison out of my heart and giving it back to you." Stefan filled the hole, packing the loose dirt back down so the page couldn't escape and sat back, dusting the dirt from his hands. "I forgive you for the things you did to me, I understand why," he gulped against the lump in his throat, "But I will never forgive you for what you did to Elena and Bonnie. If by some twist of fate we somehow cross paths again... I will not be made your victim again." A sharp wind blew, whispering through the canopy like a cacophony almost in response to his words. Stefan gave a little shiver in his hoodie at the cold sweep. The brunette gripped the flashlight and rose to his feet, his satchel resting against his back hip, his chin rose in defiance. He scoffed at the man's grave. "I will never harm Elena, only protect her from monsters like you." He turned his back and walked away, only pausing in his exit to pay his humble respect to Grayson and Miranda Gilbert.

Stefan breathed deeply and freely for the first time in months.

The gate was silent as he closed it, the latch clanging slightly as it dropped back into place. He clicked the flashlight off as he crossed the asphalt to his car in the dawn light. It was 6:30 in the morning by the time he made it back to the Boarding House and through the front door. He toed off his boots on the mat and headed for the stairs, only to stop short at the lamp suddenly turning on in his peripheral in the parlor. Brows furrowed, he stepped into the parlor threshold and a single brow rose instead as he saw Damon sitting dramatically in the throne by the lamp.

"Well, well—look who finally came slinking back home in the wee hours of dawn."

"Oh, was 'walk' a little too dramatic for you?" Stefan returned sarcastically. "I walked out, I walked back in, there was no 'slinking' involved, Damon."

"Mm." The vampire made a non-committal noise.

"So," Stefan wondered in amusement, "How long did it take you to decide where to set up this little sting operation of yours?"

"Is that a mocking tone I hear in your voice, brother?"

Stefan's eyes were a little wide a he fought the shit eating grin. "Just a little, but I'm truly curious." He stepped further down into the parlor.

Damon regarded him as he pushed himself from the chair and went over to the sideboard to pour himself a little drink. "Well, it depended on if I was dealing with Shady Stefan or Super Shady Stefan."

"Mm-hmm." Stefan claimed Damon's recently vacated throne.

Damon turned to him. "I figured I was dealing with regular Shady Stefan because you left through the front door so I thought it was safe to assume you wouldn't deem it necessary to return through your balcony."

"You mean the balcony 18 feet from the ground?"

"That didn't seem to stop you from the 22 to the roof." He pointed out trenchantly.

"Point taken," he conceded, glancing down. Stefan thumped the armrest with the edge of his palm. "You do realized that people in real life don't sit in the dark in wait, right? That's just for dramatic effect in movies."

"I thought it was rather effective, got my point across."

"You mean your shot at my suicide attempt?"

Damon set his empty tumbler down, a half smirk on his lips accompanied with a cold gaze as he approached his brother. Stefan looked up at him warily, his lips pursed, wishing he could take back that last glib comment. He swallowed quietly and drummed his dirt encrusted fingers on the arm rest. "Sh--"

Damon grasped the brunette under the chin with vampire speed and jerked Stefan close, not quite off the chair, straining the human's neck. "You can joke, you can pretend it's old news, but this is a shame you don't get to walk away from, Stefan. You get to live with it, we _all_ do—but that's the point, get it?"

"Yes," Stefan whispered sincerely.

Damon released him, shoving him back into the chair. "Let's keep the hangouts in the cemetery at 2 in the morning for 4 hours to the rare, extenuating circumstance, huh? No need to tempt the Grim Reaper any more than necessary." Damon advised, "Next time your sneak out after midnight, do a big brother proud and go to some cliché high school bonfire to get your jollies—it'll help sell your real teenage boy thing." And he strolled from the parlor.

Stefan looked after him for a moment, rubbing his throat. He'd admit, he deserved that. His gaze found the clock; he had school soon. He rose from the chair and went upstairs. He washed up in his bathroom, scraping the grave dirt from under his nails with a file, washing the dirt down the drain and getting rid of the last remains of John Gilbert. He changed into clean clothes, fed Salvatore, repacked his bag with homework and headed for the kitchen. He filled a travel mug with coffee and made 2 breakfast burritos to go, eating them on the drive to school.

He ran into Elena in student parking.

"Good morning," he greeted.

"Morning." She cocked her head lightly and regarded him.

"What?" he mused. "Do I have breakfast burrito on my face?" he wiped his mouth.

"No," she chuckled. "But... you seem different."

"Well, I feel great today," Stefan told her truthfully.

"I believe you." She gave him a small smile. She reached out and caught his left hand. "And this," Elena lifted it. "The buddy tape's gone, does that mean it's healed? Isn't it too soon, I thought it took 3 to 4 weeks?"

"Ooh, is that future Dr Elena Gilbert talking?" he teased.

She smiled and swatted at him playfully. "I'm serious, Stefan."

"It's healed." He promised. He flexed his fingers, "See?"

Elena drew her bottom lip between her teeth, gently inspecting his hand. "It's weird to see you hurt," she admitted, "And not in a good way."

"I heal, just like everybody else. It's one of the things I least mind about being human again."

The warning bell rang, the groups of students hanging around outside spurred into subdued action, grabbing their bags and heading into school through the front double doors. "Come on," Elena laced her fingers with his left with a smile. "Don't want to be tardy." They joined the stream of other students.

...

Stefan was ready to fall asleep in class and it wasn't because he hadn't slept in almost 32 hours. It was because a the weight that had been smothering his heart and poisoning his mind was lifted. John was gone. He'd slain the dragon holding him captive in the tower and he intended to use his newfound freedom to sleep.

" _Stefan!"_ his name was hissed, his foot hanging out in the aisle knocked and he straightened in his seat, clearing his throat lightly as he inconspicuously glanced around but Mrs Wilkens was droning on as she continued with her slideshow. Seated at the next desk, Matt gave him an amused brow. Stefan returned it with a wry look. He must have dozed off in class, which had literally never happened to him before in his previous 16 high school experiences—he really was human now. Luckily, it wasn't Chemistry, that could have been disastrous. He focused on staying awake the last 20 minutes of class. Finally, the end-of-class bell rang and the students gathered their binders and books and filed out of class.

"You good, man?" Matt asked in the hall.

Stefan nodded. "Didn't get much sleep last night. Thanks for the wake-up call, that would have been embarrassing if Mrs Wilkens caught me."

"No problem. If you ever, you know, need guy talk me and Tyler could always use a third on the court." Matt offered, clapping him on the back before he departed to his next class. "Catch you later, Stefan."

"Bye, Matt."

Stefan seriously considered skipping last period and taking a nap in his car, but just 2 more hours and he could do it in his own bed. So instead of making his way to the student parking lot during his break, he stopped by the cafeteria and bought a black coffee from the dispenser before going to his last class. He had an abysmal attendance, most recently due his 4 weeks of drunk and then his post suicide house arrest stint. It wouldn't do to not graduate his final time of high school because of his tardy record. The coffee helped perk him up a bit but didn't stop him from being overwhelmed during glass with a jaw-cracking yawn that drew him the arched, scruffy brow of the Biology teacher and a "Am I boring you, Mr Salvatore?".

Elena quickly hid her smile behind her hand on the stool beside him at their lab table as he responded promptly with "No, sir." And the teacher drilled him about the current lesson. Sure, Stefan may have had an attendance issue, but he continued to get high marks; one advantage to this being his 17th run of things.

...

"Are you sure you're okay to drive home?" Elena asked worriedly. It was the end of the school day and Stefan was eager to get home. "Matt said you fell asleep in your Social Studies class."

"You just want to drive my car." He teased, tossing his satchel bag onto the passenger seat through the open driver's door.

"I don't know how to drive shift," she said. "I'd just end up stripping your gears."

"Elena," he straightened and turned to her, his sudden serious tone catching her off-guard. "I need you to promise me that you will never touch my car."

"What?" she gave an incredulous chuckle.

He squeezed her upper arms and looked at her intently. "Promise, Elena."

"Alright, I promise not to touch your car." She conceded with raised hands in surrender.

He straightened with a light smile. "That's all I wanted to hear."

"You're such a guy." Elena told him fondly. "Drive safe," she gave him a quick hug and he pecked her on the cheek when they parted.

"You, too." They went their separate ways and Stefan got into his Porche Coupe. He clipped his seat belt on and turned his keys in the ignition, feeling the engine come alive around him. He glance in his rear-view to see if the way was clear of other parting students when his phone chimed. He was forced to undo his seat belt and cant his hips up to pull it out of his jeans pocket. He tapped the screen, Alaric's text coming up.

**up for company?**

**always. just a heads up it'll be an early night**

**I'll be over in an hour**

Stefan tossed his cell onto the passenger seat with his bag, clipped his seat belt and pulled out of his space. He turned the radio on, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel in rhythm on the drive to the Boarding House. Damon's convertible was absent from the driveway and so was his brother from the house.

Stefan discarded his boots, jacket, and bag at the front door and headed straight for the kitchen. He did a cursory survey of the fridge and cupboard. He would love nothing more than to go to bed right now, but he didn't want hollow hunger to wake him up in 4 hours. He took the frozen pizza from the freezer, set the oven to preheat and put the pizza stone on the rack. He would have preferred to make his own, but wasn't in the mood for such effort. Instead, he drained some sliced black olives, chopped tomato, mushroom, and red pepper, and grated fresh mozzarella to put on the pepperoni pizza and put it in the oven with the timer. Stefan put everything away, leaving the chopping board and knife to air dry in the dish rack.

Alaric came through the open kitchen door but before the vampire could do more than open his mouth to say something, Stefan already had his arms wrapped around the dirty-blond's neck, kissing him. Alaric really didn't need any more encouragement than that, instantly kissing back, his arms wrapping around Stefan. Alaric pressed him back against the door, taking command of the kiss with strokes of his tongue that had Stefan on the verge of weak-kneed and whimpering when luckily or not, the oven timer beeped. Alaric leaned back slightly, hands on Stefan's ribs, hips still connected. Stefan rolled his head back against the door, chest panting lightly, lips kiss swollen.

With a quiet groan he pushed Alaric back a step with a bump of the hips and slipped from the man's hands and spun on his heel. "Okay, stop distracting me."

Alaric hung his head for a moment before he turned to face the brunette. "Me? I just walked into the room."

Stefan put the oven on broil to brown the cheese. "Exactly. It takes a powerful man to distract me from food."

Alaric smirked. "I guess that's one blow my ego is happy to take."

"Then I'm happy to give it." Stefan closed the distance and when he wrapped his arms around the vampire's neck, he didn't take it any further. Simply standing close and together, Alaric's hands a comfortable weight around his waist, his fingers scratching through that small hairs at the dirty-blond's nape.

Alaric gazed at him. "Something happened," he remarked.

"Oh?" Stefan wondered.

"I like it." Alaric nodded. "I haven't seen you this... light in a while. Not since--" he didn't finish.

"Well, I guess I just shed some dead weight." He joked. More serious, but with a light still in his green eyes, assured, "I'm good," he swore. "I re-evaluated with some brotherly intervention. Don't tell Damon that though, his head's already 3 times too big and I don't want him getting any ideas."

"How'd he managed that?" Alaric was curious, _not_ envious.

Stefan pursed his lips in embarrassment. "He banned me from his bed. I took a drive at 2 in the morning and now I'm ready to go to bed."

"So, when you said 'early night' you meant literally."

"I haven't slept in almost 48 hours, I need literal sleep, not metaphorical sleep that's a euphemism for sex, Ric. We can definitely do that later, though." Stefan promised, stepping out of the vampire's arms with a pat on the chest. "Definitely." He turned off the oven and put on a pair of oven mitts. With a large pizza spatula, he transferred the pizza to a platter. He deftly cut it into 8 triangles with the pizza wheel.

They curled up on the loveseat in the sitting room to eat, the television that typically sat closed away in the entertainment stand when not being used, open and playing an episode of _Mike & Molly_. When Stefan finished, belly satisfyingly full, he stretched his legs out, feet crossed at the ankle on the edge of the coffee table where their empty plates resided and slumped back and to the side against Alaric. Like eating and swimming straight after, laying on a stuffed stomach gave him a stomach ache; such a human thing. It was normal, comfortable, safe, and peaceable and he found his eyelids drooping, dozing off against his boyfriend's shoulder when the bold opening notes to WPKW News blasted from the speakers, jolting him back into wakefulness.

Stefan stretched his arms overhead with a groan, dropping his feet to the floor from the coffee table before whacking Alaric on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Hey! What did I do?" Alaric asked in surprise.

"You were gonna let me fall asleep," Stefan said.

"I was watching TV," he protested

"Well, your lucky I didn't." Stefan stood and gathered up the dishes. "Trust me, when I'm grouchy I can't be reasoned with."

Alaric shut off the TV and lamps and quickly followed the brunette to the kitchen. "Like seeing you drunk with Elena and Bonnie, I've got to experience it at least once."

Finished rinsing the plates in the sink, Stefan wiped his hands dry on the tea towel before turning to face the teacher. "Trust me, Ric, the mood I'm in is the one you want to keep me in. Grouchy, you'll just be reminded that I'm, ugh... 'younger than you'."

"I think your a century and change off," he teased.

"Ha ha," he grumbled sarcastically.

"OK, OK." Alaric quickly wrapped his arms around Stefan from the side as the teen tried to pass out the door. "Rewind. You're happy, sleepy... and still wanna have sex with me later, yay!" he said with great enthusiasm and conviction, rocking them from side-to-side. "You said definitely which is undeniable." Stefan couldn't help but be enticed to snort in amusement. "See? I knew you liked me for my sense of humour and not just my body."

"No, see, I humour your humour, but that's only because I love you. Otherwise," he blew a raspberry.

"Ouch," Alaric muttered.

Stefan turned to look at him with a small smirk. "What? I said I loved you."

"And I love you so I'll ignore all the other stuff you said." Alaric quipped. Stefan turned into his arms with a quiet chuckle. "Ah, so you do find me funny."

"Only a little," he teased, nipping Alaric's pouty bottom lip.

"So, it's still a definitely on the sex?" Alaric's lips brushed sensually against his.

" _Definitely_ ," Stefan breathed and Alaric kissed into his mouth hungrily, arms tightening around him. Stefan felt the almost weightlessness of his body moving from point A to point B faster than truly conceivable from a human point of view, and then Alaric tossed him onto his bed. But before the vampire could pounce on his prey, Stefan rolled away and off the bed to his feet fluidly. " _Later_." He reminded as the vampire looked up at him from the bed bummed out, definitely not looking like the ultimate predator and Stefan had to bite the inside of his cheek.

Alaric looked at the alarm clock with a sigh. "It's not even 7."

"That just mean's I get to sleep for about 12 hours."

"You don't go and kiss a man like that when he walks into a room and then say you're gonna sleep for 12 hours," Alaric said. "That's just being a cock-tease."

"That was a 'I'm happy to see you' kiss." Stefan countered.

"No," Alaric sat up and gave his head a shake. "That was 'this is gonna turn into hot sex' kis."

Stefan licked his lips. "And it will... later." He somehow delivered it with a straight expression, but turned and headed into his en suite before the grin broke across his face at the expression Alaric just gave him.

He sighed. "You know you shouldn't tease a vampire with sex," Alaric called after him. "It makes us hangry!"

Stefan's laugh echoed from the bathroom. "See? You can be funny sometimes."

Alaric rolled his eyes in amusement and shuffled off the bed to head into the en suite. Stefan was at the sink brushing his teeth. Alaric sidled behind him, arms wrapped around his torso. Stefan could keenly feel the teacher's erection through his jeans as he leaned back against his chest, looking at their reflection through the mirror.

Stefan paused in his brushing and noted around his toothbrush, "You're like a horny teenager, worse than me right now."

"I'm a vampire," Alaric returned, "It's a very sensitive button you tease." Stefan leaned forward to spit, pressing back against the vampire's hardness, biting back the sound in the back of his throat. "Mm," Alaric couldn't though. "It's good to have 'hey, we're both happy sex' once in a while amidst the 'oh, my god, we made it out alive' sex." His hand snaked under Stefan’s shirt, fingers teasing his treasure trail.

"You do have a point," Stefan hummed thoughtfully. "That does appear to be a frequent kind of sex between us. But you also do know masturbation isn't cheating, right?" Stefan managed to deliver in a relatively normal voice as he straightened, pressed more flush against the vampire than before. "As long as you think about me." He added.

"Who else would I think about?" Alaric nuzzled against the side of his throat.

"Good answer." Stefan flashed him heated eyes in the mirror and Alaric's hips bucked against his rear. He stuck the toothbrush back in his mouth as distraction, paste at the corners of his mouth but it wasn't much of one as Alaric's hand pushed passed his belt, finger's brushing through his pubic hair before his hand wrapped around his cock. The organ instantly responded to the familiar, possessive hand and Stefan groaned quietly as he was rubbed, head falling back against the vampire's shoulder, quickly hardening in the tight, confined space of his jeans. "Ric," he whined, dropping his toothbrush into the sink as the vampire kept his hips pinned against the edge of the sink, preventing him from thrusting. Hands now unoccupied, he shoved at his jeans impatiently, somehow getting the still-belted pants down over his hips, erection, and Alaric's fist, scraping the skin red.

Alaric's fingers brushed tenderly over the reddened skin, before he unzipped himself. He released Stefan's cock—Stefan shivered a little as his pelvis pressed against the cold porcelain. "Suck," Alaric commanded, pressing his fingers against Stefan lips.

The brunette pulled his hand down. "You are not prepping me with toothpaste foam," Stefan growled, "I will break your fingers." He grabbed the pump soap from the back shelf and squirted it onto Alaric's fingers, with a bit of water, he worked it to a good lather. "Do it before I realize what a bad idea this is." There was no thought of going the 15 feet from the en suite into the bedroom and on the bed, it was here. Now.

Alaric only gave him the single tease of running his finger down between his firm cheeks before pressing his digit passed the sphincter. Stefan grunted, hanging his head, hands gripping the edges of the sink. Alaric’s hand found his cock again, pumping both as he added a second finger. Stefan’s head tipped back with a quiet moan, him flexing back as his prostate was brushed. When Alaric added a third finger, he only pumped twice before reclaiming his fingers. He coated his cock with a groan, his other hands squeezing Stefan's hip. Alaric pushed into him.

"Uhn." They made twin sounds in response. Alaric pounded into him, the items on the shelf behind the sink rattling. Stefan hands were white-knuckled as he gripped the edges of the sink, it creaked from the weight and unsanctioned activity. All he could do was hang his head and take it, but Alaric wanted more than to stare at the knob at the top of his spine above his tee collar.

"Wanna see your face, Stef." He panted. An arm snaked under the shirt at Stefan's waist, the other overlapping across his chest. Alaric pulled the brunette up back against his chest, fingers delicately around his throat, keeping his head up. He could feel the pounding heart through his forearm, the jumping pulse in his fingertips. Somehow, the sight of their reflection together in the mirror sped up the speed of his thrusts, pulling continuous sounds from Stefan's throat.

Stefan's left hand scrambled for purchase on Alaric's arm around his waist, the other reached behind, nails digging into the flesh above Alaric’s buttock. His erection was a free agent, jeans pooled around his calves, bouncing in rejoinder to Alaric's thrusts. Through hooded eyes he refused to look at his own face, not even letting it register and instead focused on Alaric's beside his in the reflection. Stefan didn't need to know what he looked like when he orgasmed, in fact, he'd rather not. It was like watching a stranger's face, and it was, it wasn't even his _own_.

"You're beautiful," Alaric breathed into his ear.

Stefan swallowed, closing his eyes against the inexplicable prick behind his eyes, letting his head fall back against Alaric's shoulder, turning it to hide his face in his throat. He came 2 thrusts later. "Ric!" his body exploded with his orgasm, ejaculating onto the sink.

Alaric's arms tightened around him, thrusting 4 more times before burying himself deep in Stefan’s spasming tunnel and rang in his own orgasm. "Stefan!" Alaric’s thumb stroked Stefan's hipbone as they came down, the other stroking the side of his throat. Alaric loosened his hold and Stefan leaned forward, bracing against the sink, his head hung to block his sightline to the mirror. Stefan made a small sound when Alaric gently pulled out. "Okay?" Alaric stroked his hip as he took a step back.

Stefan breathed. "Yeah." After a moment, Stefan straightened, pulling his t-shirt off overhead to obscure his view as he turned from the sink and mirror. He dropped it to the tile floor and stepped out of the puddle made up of jeans, briefs, and socks, to Alaric. Alaric stood still and watched him carefully as the brunette, unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it from his shoulders and to the floor. The vampire managed to kick his jeans off without further fuss. Stefan leaned forward and kissed him before wrapping an arm around his waist, hand cupping his nape, pressing his face against Alaric's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Alaric asked quietly in concern, palm rubbing his back.

"Nothing."

Alaric shook his head. "I shouldn't have forced you," he uttered guiltily. "You didn't want to have sex and I pressured you into it."

Stefan raised his head sharply, cupping Alaric's jaw and forcing the dirty-blond to look at him. "You did **not** force me, Ric." He said firmly. "You would never force me. You never have to. If I didn't want to have sex, you would know, I was just being a stupid fucking tease, okay?" his thumb stroked against the stubble on his cheek.

"Something happened, Stefan." Alaric insisted. "Something went wrong, talk to me. Please."

Stefan swallowed and licked his lips. His gaze dropped momentarily before meeting his worried blue eyes again. "I love you,"

"I love you, too." Alaric murmured back.

"I want you to be mine," Stefan said. " _Only mine_."

"I am yours," he said in confusion. "I would never cheat on you, Stefan. I would never do that to you, you have to know that."

Stefan shook his head. "I know you wouldn't with just anyone... but what if one day you run into someone who looks just like me? I don't want you to fall in love with him, but you love me and I'm just some borrowed face."

"I didn't fall in love with some Jurassic asshole who pissed off Nature," Alaric said furiously, "I fell in love with _you_ , Stefan Salvatore. Only you." He took Stefan’s face in his hands. "You're a very handsome man, Stefan, no one can deny that. And of course when I first saw you at Duke there was a blank spark of attractiveness, but the real desire only came you opened your mouth, when you started to talk and I saw _you_. Your character, your soul, that's what drew me in, Stefan. That is why I fell in love with you." Alaric laid his palm on his chest. "Your heart. That is no one else’s but yours. You are one of a kind, Stefan. _You_ are my only kind."

Stefan inhaled a deep, slightly shaky breath, swallowing against the lump of emotion stuck in his throat. "Watching myself like that..." he titled his head slightly back to indicate the mirror behind, "Makes me uncomfortable." He admitted with shame and embarrassment, dropping his gaze. "I don't want to know how I look," _how they look_ "I don't need to know."

"Hey," Alaric titled his head back up with a curled finger under his chin to meet his eyes again. "You have nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed of, Stefan. You're gorgeous, both inside and out. You take my breath away." The pad of his thumb traced the brunette's bottom lips softly.

"I love you," Stefan said quietly but sincerely.

Alaric kissed him. "I love you, Stefan."

"The sex was still fantastic, by the way." Stefan added in assurance.

Alaric gave a soft chuckle. "You've been up for 48 hours, you're exhausted. So, a quick shower and then bed and you can have your 10 hours." He took Stefan's hand and pulled him from their discarded clothes to the shower.

"Okay. But no wet hair," he added quickly.

"Scout's Honor." Alaric held up 2 fingers.

"Seeing as you actually were in the Cub Scouts... I'll take that vow to heart."

"Where do you think my great whittling skills stemmed from, or the initial idea for my stake launcher?" he said proudly with a grin, turning the taps on.

"Spud launcher," Stefan chuckled, getting hit with spray from the showerheads. "You have to show me pictures."

Alaric laughed at that. "I already told you what I looked like in high school and that wasn't pretty, you're not getting a look at my chubby youth in short, creased, beige shorts. Not a chance, buddy, not until you return the favour."

"That's not fair!" Stefan protested with a pout. "You're looking at my high school years in the face and the few I have Damon and I in our youth... you have no idea what a pain it was to get your photo taken in the 1800's, especially for a child."

Alaric stroked either of his flanks with soapy hands. "So, you went through the effort to take them and then save them for the past 145 years, but don't want to show off the trophy of that determination."

Stefan rested his cheek against Alaric's shoulder. "So, it's the old 'show me yours, I'll show you mine' standoff, huh?"

"Just your everyday tit for tat." Alaric agreed, soapy fingers running through Stefan's crack.

The brunette hummed. "If this even did go down," he contemplated slowly, "Then Damon could never ever find out. He would kill us both."

"I'll only use it as leverage against him in the most dire circumstance," the vampire promised.

Shower done, hair left dry, Alaric only put on a pair of boxers and Stefan flannel pyjama bottoms. Stefan curled comfortably against the teacher's side, head pillowed on his shoulder. Not even 10 minutes of darkness, quiet, and comfort and Stefan fell asleep. His dreams were blissfully terror free and he didn't stir once for his precious 10 hours.

...

Stefan started to stir into wakefulness as he felt the material of his blanket slowly drag across his bare skin as it was pulled away. His body went willing as he felt the gently pressure of the calloused hand on his hip, turning on his back. His eyes flickered, catching a flash of Alaric's face. His eyes fluttered open as he felt a weight straddle him, and for a moment of pure bewilderment, Stefan looked up at his brother in the shaft of morning light through the split in the curtain, but when he blinked his vision clear and Alaric was straddling him.

"You okay? You back with me?" Alaric stroked his cheek.

"Must have been still dreaming," he murmured. He took Alaric's hand, kissing his palm. It was probably a good thing that Damon had kicked him out of his bed when he did. He stretched with a small groan, palms pressed above his head against the headboard, back arching as Alaric caressed down his bare chest, groin pressing against the vampire's rear.

Alaric grinned. "That's one way to say good morning."

Stefan snorted in amusement as he relaxed back again into the mattress, his hands coming to rest on Alaric's hairy thighs. "What time is it?" he wondered, fingers inching upward under the bunched boxer material top of the man's thighs.

"Well, almost 11 hours of sleep later and it's just before 7 in the morning." Alaric said, his hips giving a minute shift against him as Stefan's thumbs stroked into the crease of his thighs by his groin. "Did that meet your required quota?"

"Close enough," he murmured, his green gaze drawn down as the stimulation from his thumbs fast-tracked a growing erection to tent Alaric’s boxers, it straining to break through the buttoned slit. "That means we have time," Stefan wet his lips.

"Don't tease me, Stefan." Alaric warned, even as he leaned forward, braced on his palms, pressing their groins together as he pressed a kiss to Stefan’s mouth, nipping at his bottom lip.

"I said 'later', didn't I?" Stefan pulled the waistband on his boxers down over his ass, fingertips ghosting through his crack, brushing over his pucker like a breath; Alaric made a sound in the back of his throat and bucked against the brunette.

With a pressure on the vampire's hips, they rolled, switching positions. He pulled Alaric's boxers the rest of the way off and shed his own flannel bottoms, coming to straddle Alaric's thighs, their stiff cocks rubbing against each other. He leaned over into the nightstand drawer for the lube bottle, popping the cap and squirting some into his palm. Alaric groaned as Stefan stroked his cock, coating it with lube. When Stefan released him, there was a pearl of precome glistening at his slit. Stefan squirted more lube onto the fingers of the same hand rubbing them together, Alaric stilled and watched with rapt attention as Stefan leaned forward and braced a hand on his chest before reaching behind himself.

He encircled his hole for a moment with a slick fingertip before he push his finger passed the ring. "Ah." He started pumping his finger. Alaric's fingertips pressed into his hip and the other one cupped his balls, massaging them, causing the brunette to groan and buck, clench around his finger. Alaric watched as his skin slowly flushed a gorgeous pink. After a moment of searching at the different angle, Stefan's fingertip managed to graze his prostate; the sound caught in the back of his throat, the bolt of pleasure jolting down through to his toes, eyes momentarily closing. He added a second finger, shivering as Alaric stroked his taint. He opened his eyes to find Alaric watching him with intense, heated, lust darkened blue eyes and Stefan bit his lip. "Ric," he mewed, pulling his fingers free. He couldn’t be bothered with a third finger, Stefan wanted to _feel_ Alaric _now_ and _later_.

Stefan shifted forward and guided Alaric to his entrance, the vampire gulped as his head breached the tight ring and then Stefan sat down, fully seated without any warning, a low whine leaving him.

"Oh, god!" Alaric grunted in surprise, eyes rolling momentarily as he was engulfed in such intense, precious heat. His fingertips pressed with bruising force into Stefan's hips, it was a miracle he didn't instantly empty himself into the teen from the shock. "You're so tight, Stefan." Alaric hissed.

Stefan gave a breathless chuckle. "You feel so big." He braced his hands on Alaric’s chest and started to thrust, working an intense pace up and down the vampire's lubbed, thick shaft. He felt the burn as he was made to stretch to accommodate on the go, it was quickly overpowered by the intense pleasure.

Alaric's hand left his hip and wrapped around his cock and stroked him. Stefan's pace faltered at the new stimulation, caught between thrusting in Alaric's fist and the stiff cock filling him. "Ric."

The vampire's hand still holding Stefan's hip guided him, helped him pick up the rhythm. "That's it," Alaric panted.

It was a punishing pace and Stefan's golden skin glistened with sweat, and he clenched almost painfully around Alaric’s cock as he came on the man's hairy stomach, breathless. Alaric sat up, clinging to Stefan's heated body as he orgasmed inside of him. Hand pushed into his dirty-blond hair, Stefan pressed his face against his neck and Alaric sunk his fangs into his crook, the juncture where shoulder and neck met. Stefan gave a small sharp gasp. His nails drew red welts across the pale skin on Alaric's back as the vampire fed; they disappeared instantly. Stefan slumped against him as Alaric released him, licking away any blood that continued to well from his fangs marks before they clotted, his cheek on his broad shoulder.

Stefan groaned quietly. "Can I take a nap? I think I just expended my 11 hours."

Alaric chuckled. "You certainly didn't hold back." He kissed and mouthed along his black rose tattoo on his shoulder.

"Mm, I'll definitely feel it later." Alaric felt the smile pressed against his skin.

"It was so sexy watching you finger yourself," Alaric breathed, breath ghosting across sweaty skin.

Stefan flexed around him; Alaric inhaled sharply, his spent cock instantly responding to the delicious attention, stiffening again inside the heat. Stefan made his own interesting little sound at the odd sensation. Stefan’s fingernails dug into the back of Alaric shoulder and he undulated his hips. That was all the encouragement the vampire needed and he shifted forward, putting Stefan beneath him, interlacing their fingers on the bed next to the brunette's head. His hips didn't stop pistoning into him until Stefan grew hard again and painted another layer across Alaric's stomach, the vampire almost purring at the warm sensation; and when he unloaded a second time into the brunette, Stefan felt pleasantly heavy and full.

"Ah." Alaric carefully pulled out of Stefan's oversensitive ring, collapsing on his side beside the spent brunette with his eyes closed. "Still awake?" knuckles brushed down his chest.

"Mm-hm." Stefan's eyes cracked to green slits. He tilted his head and got a glance at the alarm clock, "Twice in under 30 minutes," he smirked. "I'll be the envy of every teenage boy."

"You'll barely be able to sit, you'll be so tender." Alaric remarked. "You gonna be okay? There's nothing but hard plastic to sit on at school."

"Chemistry is definitely going to be a bitch to sit through on those horrible stools," he agreed. He sat up with a groan and tiny grimace. "I think about you the whole time," he patted the vampire on the thigh.

Alaric chuckled as he sat up. "What, you mean about what a pain in the ass I am?"

"First step is admitting it," he teased.

"Very funny." Alaric kissed him before climbing from the bed.

"Must have been since you kissed me," Stefan grasped the proffered hand to his feet.

"I was just being polite in the face of your suffering."

"How gallant," Stefan mused on the way to the en suite. Alaric gulped as he watched his semen start to trail slowly down Stefan thigh.

They cleaned up, got dressed, and Stefan fed Salvatore before they headed for the kitchen. Alaric put the coffee pot on and Stefan grabbed eggs and a few other things to make an omelette for his breakfast; chopping mushroom, cherry tomatoes, green onion and red pepper to throw in the frying pan. He cracked 4 eggs into a bowl, and frowned at exceeding amount of empty blood back in the trash when he threw the shells away. Alaric needed to leave early so Stefan got a travel mug from the cupboard and filled it with piping hot coffee, only handing it over to the vampire after a kiss.

"Good luck today," Alaric joked, gently squeezing Stefan's buttock before departing.

"Thinking of you the whole time!" Stefan laughed, turning back to the island and his whisked eggs with a smile when a voice he wasn't expecting spoke.

"Barf bag alert," Damon drawled, gaze cutting sharply across the feeding mark peaking from Stefan's wrinkled collar. "Hall Mark wants their sappy back."

Stefan rolled his eyes good-naturedly at his brother in the kitchen doorway as he went to the stove and poured the egg over the other ingredients, the pan sizzling lightly. He set the bowl aside on the counter. "I didn't realize you were home." When he turned, Damon was right there.

"So, you fed the hubby a warm, hardy meal," he adjusted the collar of Stefan's shirt. "You handed him a thermos of piping hot joe, gave him a tender kiss at the door." He cooed, dusting Stefan's shoulders. He paused and stared at his brother, eyes icy blue. "Did you give him fellatio in the shower this morning like good little wifey, too?" he sneered.

Stefan smacked his brother's hands away with a confused furrow to his brow. "What your problem? You jealous? Couldn't even compel Andie to give you one this morning and now you're cranky, acting like a little baby who didn't get a sucker like all his friends?" he mocked right back. "Don't worry, Damon, every vampire reaches that age where they have trouble getting it up, I'm sure it'll pass."

Damon's hands fisted furiously. "You would know, inadequacy was your specialty as a vampire." He said snidely.

Stefan scowled at him. "Seriously, what is your problem, Damon?"

Damon ignored him and rolled his eyes. He went to the fridge and opened the freezer, digging around in the bottom drawer. "Tell your boyfriend to stop drinking from my stash when he's over, isn't that what you're for?" he slammed the door.

"He hasn't even taken any," Stefan defended.

Damon scoffed as he crossed the kitchen. "You just keep thinking that."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, but Damon had already disappeared down the basement steps. Stefan stared at the ajar door completely lost at his brother's cranky and vulgar attitude. And thinking back, there had been callous undertones to his words the other morning when he kicked Stefan out of his bedroom. All he knew right now was that his pleasant mood had plummeted, Damon's old specialty kicking in.

He smelled burning and cursed, quickly turning back to the stove, having forgotten his omelette. He picked up the pan and with a deft flick of the wrist, flipped the omelette without breaking it before setting it back on the low flame. It was extremely browned, but he was easily able to pick the crispy layer off. He sprinkled it with shredded cheddar, folded the omelette and turned off the burner, letting the dying heat melt the cheese. He slid the omelette onto a dinner plate and ate it distracted, wrinkles on his forehead taking residence in reflection on his continued confusion and mounting frustration.

It took him forever to find a parking spot in the already packed student lot after his late leave from the Boarding House, it was a hated spot in his opinion, under the tree. While yes, it provided shade from the bright overhead sun, it dripped sap and he hated what it did to his paint job. The front of the school was empty of students, the warning bell for first period having gone off. His pace was off as he speed-walked down the empty halls but for a handful of other rushing students to get to class before the final bell by his rigorous morning activity twice over this morning. The bell rang before Stefan could reach class, the morning announcements coming over the school PA. Somehow, he managed to slip into the classroom while the teacher's attention was otherwise occupied, garnering indifferent looks from some of the other students. He dropped his bag at his feet, not having time to stop at his locker, and quickly sat on the hard plastic stool behind his assigned lab table, closing his eyes briefly with a grimace as the teacher turned his attention to the class having located the attendance sheet.

Bonnie looked beside her at him with a curved brow, the end of her pen tapping lightly against the hard cover of her closed text book in front of her on the table. "That was sheer luck, Salvatore."

"Yeah." He shed his jacket and raised enough from the stool to lay the folded garment under him before sitting back down with a sigh as their classmates unenthusiastically grunted in response to their called names. Bonnie added her own almost immediately.

"You seem upset," she noted quietly after a moment.

He sighed heavily, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table, easing the ache in his tailbone. "More like pissed and confused."

"Why? What happened?" Bonnie wondered in concern.

"I don't know," he confessed. "Damon came home this morning in a foul mood."

"And typical Damon, he was being a dick." She concluded easily enough, rolling her eyes in annoyance at the vampire.

Stefan gave a short, humourless chuckle. "In laymen terms."

"No," she countered dryly, "In Damon terms."

That got a more genuine sound of amusement from him as he responded to his called name with a short and to the point: "Here."

"So, what's his problem this time?"

"Hell if I know," he grumbled, worry crowded his forehead.

They were prevented from further conversation as the teacher started to the lesson plan. Bonnie opened her text book to the desired page and moved it to the center of the table to share with Stefan who gave her a grateful smile in return as he dragged his binder from his bag. Luckily, with his focus scattered, they were just doing written today and nothing of practical application; the last thing he needed was a chemical burn because he wasn't paying proper attention.

...

Hours later, and Stefan was still no closer to zeroing in on an answer. He came home to an empty Boarding House—with no clue to Damon's whereabouts, typical; Stefan's cell phone was practically an ankle monitor that his brother had monitoring rights of yet Damon never bothered to tell him if and when he was going out—but the brunette didn't stick around long. He went up to his room long enough to change into jogging clothes and sneakers and then he was out. After a quick set of stretches on the back piazza, he hopped down the steps and jogged across the yard to the tree line, disappearing into a obscure path opening that was only discernible to someone's eye who knew it was there.

Running had several benefits to him right now. Other than getting him out of the house and from Damon's proceeding return, it helped him excise his pent up worry and frustration, and helped clear his mind. Space and perspective. He certainly got the space but not so much on the perspective front; he still had no idea the source of Damon's irascibility and undertone of current malice. Was something going on with the Founder's Council? Surely Damon had learned his lesson with John and tell him if trouble was stirring. Was it something to do with Andie? Stefan remembered his own malicious barb in regard to Damon's relationship with Andie this morning and felt the guilt; Andie was a soured topic between them. So, that only left one conclusion—Stefan must have done something. That wasn't an encouraging prospect or all that helpful; Stefan had done a lot of things lately and they'd each aggrieved (Ric's word choice) Damon on some level. His suicide attempt hadn't and still wasn't a pretty incitement and he was as sure as he could be that it wasn't the cause. Damon made his opinion on that event well-known from the start. No, it was something else. With his track record, probably right under his nose and he was blind to it.

Stefan slowed down to a walk as he reached the tree line of the yard, pushing through the path's obscured opening, foliage brushing across his cheek. Damon was already seated on a stool at the island in the kitchen when he returned through the back door like he was waiting, covered in sweat, breath and heart still coming down in his chest. He wasn't sure what to say, so he didn't say anything and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, cracking the seal and tilting it against his lips.

Damon eyes narrowed indiscernibly as they trained on the fresh little scratch on the side of Stefan's cheek, a tiny bead of ruby blood clinging to the microscopic tear in the skin. The smell of it was almost overwhelming to his superior senses. His pupils a pinprick, he watched as a trailing bead of sweat down Stefan's temple started to encroach. Damon's body moved with inhuman speed almost against his will, indiscernible to human perception. Stefan felt the ghost touch against his cheek and lowered the water bottle, he felt the presence and looked over to see Damon close, sucking on the pad of his finger, the barest shadow of veins colouring the pale skin under his eyes.

"Now, why does that taste oddly familiar, brother?" Damon wondered coolly; he was easily able to separate the overpowering salty taste of sweat from the tiny morsel of blood and his body recognized the taste, even if he consciously didn't. The ache in his gums tightened his jaw.

"Wha--?" Stefan started to turn around but a strong hand on his back forced him back forward to face the island, the edge of the counter pressing into his abdomen. "What are you talking about?" he questioned, setting the water bottle down.

"Your blood, Stefan." His voice was a low growl.

Stefan was still momentarily confused until he remembered the barely perceptible brush on his cheek, his brother sucking on his finger. He reached up to his cheek, his fingertip brushing against the thin line of a scratch. "You--" brow crinkled, he tried to turn and face the vampire, but again the pressure on the back of his shoulder kept him in place. "You just tasted my blood..." he realized. "What the hell, Damon!"

"Answer the question, brother. How have I had your blood."

Stefan grimaced. He knew the exact moment that Damon was asking about. It had been Valentine's Day and he'd dug out his old recipe book with the sole purpose of finding his blood recipes. The macarons, cooked with his own blood, had been for Alaric but Damon had come and snatched a few on his way to his date. Damon had no idea that it was Stefan's blood and by then it was too late to stop the vampire and he saw no reason for Damon to know. Of course, it didn't stop the dark satisfaction he felt that his brother was eating his blood on the way to his date with Andie. "It wasn't my fault. I tried to stop you--"

"Cut the excuses," Damon interrupted. "Talk."

Stefan huffed. "Fine. It was Valentine's Day," Damon's fingers gripped painfully into the top of his shoulder, fingers pressed against Alaric’s feeding mark in his crook and Stefan winced, futilely trying to dislodge them with a roll. "I baked my blood into the macarons that you stole."

"You Trojan-Horsed your blood into a treat—and didn't think that was something I should know?"

"Trojan-Horse implies that that I was intentionally-- _Ah._ " Damon's fingers tightened cruelly. "I tried! You didn't give me the chance and by then I thought it was just better that you didn't know—'cause I thought you'd freak-out like you are now." Stefan pointed out.

"I'm not freaking out." He reported.

"Yeah, alright. You're calm, you're composed. You can let me go now," Stefan said.

"Here's the thing..." Damon pulled on his shoulder, turning him around, only to push him back against the island, his palm pressed flat at the bottom of Stefan throat. "I don't believe you."

Stefan swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing; Damon's gaze imperceptibly flickering down at the movement. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm mean," Damon's hand brushed up and Stefan felt his brother's palm eclipse his throat, standing in his space. "Maybe at the start, that was your intention, before I ate the first one, but the second, the third... oh, it became something altogether different, didn't it, brother?" Stefan’s heart was jumping in his throat, his carotid thrumming under the pressured stroke of Damon's thumb. "You had one-up on Andie, she may never know, but _you_ did. You could look at her and _know_ , while she was clueless, while _I_ was clueless. That superior satisfaction." Damon's expression was a cold, white mask, but his icy blue eyes were a different story. There was almost something manic in his eyes. _No_ , Stefan realized with some nervousness as he recognized the past look reflected back to him in the mirror, _it's hunger_. He leaned forward, cocked his head and whispered in Stefan's ear, "Tell me I'm wrong," before pulling back. Stefan pursed his lips tightly in response. "Hmm," Damon chuckled lowly.

"Tell me..." Stefan swallowed convulsively as he caught sight of his brother's fangs peaking out behind his lips as he spoke, "You don't want me to bite you right now, _feed_ from you, engorge on your blood and go out and fuck her into oblivion knowing that it's your blood coursing through my veins, giving her the orgasm of her life, screaming my name as _we_ dominate her, humiliate her. Show her, her place,"

Stefan's closed his eyes as his brother spoke, feeling his breath across his face, _felt_ the words as his stomach twisted and chest panted. Stefan wasn't sure what it was. Fear. Anticipation. Maybe both. All he knew was that Damon's words had an effect, an implication; shame, humiliation, grandeur, approval, cunning.

Damon's fingers tightened. His cheek brushed Stefan's as the vampire hissed in his ear, "Come on, baby, I dare you." Stefan couldn't answer, couldn't speak, could only turn his face away. Damon withdrew his fingers and all Stefan could feel was his brother's cool, damp breath brushing across the side of his exposed throat. "Tell me, I dare you."

Stefan wasn't sure if the provoking graze of fangs against his throat was real or just in his head. "I don't, not like that." He finally managed to get his voice to work, but when he opened his eyes Damon was already long gone. Stefan released a shaky exhale, slumping back against the island, weak-kneed, his fingers cramping from their continued white-knuckled grip on the edge of the counter.

He rose a slightly trembling hand to his throat, squeezing his eyes closed. Why did Damon have to make it into something dirty and wicked? Yes, he was guilty of feeling a short dark satisfaction about Damon eating his blood before going on a date with Andie, but that was only one single spoiled grain of the whole for the reason why he ever even thought about Damon drinking his blood. Even though Damon told him he made the ultimate choice to drink the maid's blood and transition, Stefan still felt responsible, had a responsibility toward his big brother in this preternatural life of eternity. To take care of Damon in any way that he was able; whether that was saving his ass or literally becoming the source to sustain it.

He sighed, opening his eyes and dropping his hand from his neck. He rose from the island and left the kitchen. There was no weight to the possibility that Damon had stuck around. It was just confirmed when he noticed the front door ajar. He pushed it closed, his palm flat on the dark oak, lingering over the imperceptible scuff mark Damon put there Christmas Eve. He sighed, his fist clenched as he backed from the door and went upstairs. He locked his own, grabbed his satchel from his reading chair and sat at the writing table, moving other papers and books out of the way. He finished his homework in silence. He ignore his stomach when it gurgled emptily at him. After his homework, he opened his journal, penning several pages, trying to help frame his running confusion into something tangible, wet ink smearing with his brisk loops. In his journals, he always wrote in cursive, the words just flowed smoother, interconnected, it had a more calming effect on his subconscious than the harsh lines of print. It was what he learned growing up; it was rare that his tutor had to use the ruler.

Finally, Stefan pushed his journal away, rubbing his strained eyes, the sun down, the room dim. He pushed from the table and switched on a bedside lamp, casting his bedroom in a soft glow. He finally stripped from his jogging clothes, throwing them in the hamper and took a long shower. He avoided the mirror as he stood in front of the sink, towel wrapped around his waist, towelling his hair dry before combing it. While he was there, he grabbed his toothbrush and started to brush. His hips leaned against the edge, his eyes closed, he could feel Alaric pressed behind him again, bulge pressed against his butt, hand down the front of his jeans, the feel off his stubble grazing the sensitive skin of throat. Stefan opened his eyes, spit and rinsed, moving his hips back and the growing semi away. He left the en suite, flicking the light out. He grabbed his cell phone before flopping onto his bed. He unlocked his phone and thumbed the phone icon next to Ric's initial. The line rang twice as he held his cell to his ear before it connected.

"Hey,"

Stefan smiled at the sound of his voice. "I guess I have to thank you," he supplied in greeting.

"Okay." Alaric paused. "What did I do?"

"I was just brushing my teeth and got a semi."

Alaric made a slight choking sound, completely taken by surprise at the response. "You're welcome," was his cocky response when he regained his composure. "Or maybe I should thank you?"

Stefan briefly bit his lip. "You home?"

"Yeah. It's late and you know I like to mark schoolwork when I’m buzzed." He joked, but Stefan could hear the faint scrape of the glass on his table as he turned the glass round and round. "Or at least when I used to be able to get drunk at a reasonable pace. Now I have to suffer through it sober."

Stefan raised his knee, the soft Egyptian cotton brushing down either side of his thigh as the seam of the wrap was parted. "Why not supplant it with something else?"

Alaric's tone was curious, "What are you saying?" Stefan was quiet. He gnawed his bottom lip, feeling the heat of embarrassment on his face at what he had yet to voice, but it also fuelled his arousal. "Stef?" Alaric's voice was a soft prompt.

Stefan's teeth released his bottom lip, the tip of his tongue gliding over the abused flesh. He swallowed. "For every question answered correctly... I touch myself," Alaric's breath paused on the other side of the line. "For every answer wrong... you touch yourself."

"You want to make a sex game out of marking schoolwork." Alaric took a deep breath. "You're really trying to kill me, aren't you?"

"Come on," Stefan teased, trailing his fingers down his chest, before pushing his hand beneath the towel, the knot coming loose, "Like you didn't just get excited." His hand grasped the base of his semi; he bit his lip to stifle the hitch in his breath.

"What was that?"

"What?" he wondered seriously. His cock was completely stiff after just a few strokes, the Egyptian cotton ethereal against his slit.

"You. What are you doing right now?"

Stefan's hand squeezed, the towel shifting further as he raised his other knee. "Just laying in bed... listening to you talk," his breath hissed. "Love your voice."

"I can hear your breathing, Stefan."

"Yes, it really is a terrible tendency I have." He turned his head, keeping the phone between his ear and the pillow as his now freed hand reached down. An involuntary sound left Stefan as his finger grazed his still sensitive hole.

Alaric gave a little growl of lust. "You're touching yourself,"

His finger retreated and he palmed his sac, massaging his balls and an open sound left him. "Yes," he groaned. "Ric,"

"Fuck, Stefan." The brunette shivered at the distinct sound of zipper teeth over the phone and Alaric's hiss following quickly after as he stroked himself to stiffness. "Talk to me."

Stefan just panted for a moment as he continued to stroke himself, eyes closed in the soft lamp light, picturing Alaric in his loft sat at the small table, pants open, fisting himself, schoolwork scattered across the tabletop, Bic pen behind his ear. "I don't know what to say," he finally admitted.

"You're such a tease,"

"That's not fair," he protested weakly. "Oh," his toes dug into the blanket, thighs taut.

"Stefan," Alaric groaned in reaction.

Stefan's hips bucked in response and the next instant the brunette knew, he was coming over his hand with a stutter. "Ah." Alaric groaned quietly on the other side of the line. Stefan's hips dropped back to the bed and he panted with a quiet moan.

"Now I'm going to have a Pavlovian response to your breathing."

Stefan chucked softly. "You'll be in trouble then. I have a proclivity to breath now—and loudly I've found." He wiped his hand clean on the towel.

Chair legs scraped across the floor. "Your breathing, just like your heartbeat are very reassuring to me."

Stefan closed his eyes just listening to Alaric's movements crackle through the line; the shuffle of discarded material, a tap running... the opening of a fridge, the closing of a cupboard, the beep of the microwave, clink of a glass on the table, the scrape of the chair. "I miss the sound of your heart," Stefan finally whispered sadly.

"It's still there," Alaric promised. "Your heart just beats for the both of us now."

_I like yours better_ , Stefan refrained from saying out loud. Instead, his empty stomach growled and gurgled hungrily

"What was that?"

Stefan turned on his side, arms wrapping around his stomach. The sound died down after a minute. "Just gas,"

"That was not _gas_ , Stefan. I'm a vampire now, I know what gas sounds like, trust me, I work in a school populated by teenage boys." Alaric countered. "That was hunger." Stefan didn't verbally respond. "Stefan, why haven't you eaten? Are you not feeling well?"

"I feel fine," Stefan promised. "I just don't want to leave my room."

"Why?" he asked immediately. "Where's Damon? Did he do something?"

"Damon left. I don't know where he went, he never tells me." Stefan remembered the manic hunger in Damon's eyes and gulped. "He's probably cycling through people like it's an all you can eat blood buffet." He supplied deliberately impassive, ignoring a sense of guilt.

"Do you want me to come over?" Alaric said more gently.

"I'm okay, I swear." Stefan said. "Just talk to me. You still need to mark, right?."

"It's essays," Alaric said. "One little flaw in your sex game idea."

Stefan snickered. "Read to me, Ric."

Alaric sighed and there was paper shuffled. "Alright. You asked for it, The Holy Roman Empire. This is as written by Anders, he's one of my better Junior students."

Stefan yanked the damp towel from beneath him and tossed it on the floor before he settled back. "Let's go Anders."

Alaric cleared his throat dramatically and began: "' _It was a world built upon_...'"

"You weren't kidding," Stefan finally remarked after Alaric finished reading the conclusion, "Ander's definitely knows his Roman Empire."

Pen scratched against paper as Alaric finished writing in the page margins. "Told you," Stefan could hear the proud smile in his voice.

"It because you're such a good teacher," Stefan complimented. "I could watch you lecture all day, but then I might just be biased."

"Just a little," he teased.

Stefan smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr Saltzman."

"Good night, Stefan." Alaric murmured. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Ric." There was a moment of silence as they just listened to each other breathe. "Good night." Stefan finally disconnected the call. He put his cell phone on his nightstand and turned the lamp off, casting his bedroom into darkness. He squirreled away under the covers, ignoring his yowling stomach and closed his eyes.

He dreamed of Damon, mouth black with blood, blood dripping from his chin and Stefan swore he could feel the patter of blood on his skin. It didn't just feel like some dream his mind concocted after last night's events, but like some detached memory, yet he held no emotional attachment to it.

The first thing he did when he got out of bed was unlock his balcony doors and step out. Leaning out over the rail, searching, he couldn't quite help the exhale of relief when he didn't spot Damon's convertible. He went back inside his room. He should probably be worried for Andie's safety with the mood Damon had left in, hungry and angry, but he could only be glad that he wasn't home right now so Stefan could avoid him.

Stefan fed Salvatore, shaved, dressed and spent a short 15 minutes with his hair. He grabbed his satchel and cell phone and got into his car instead of going to the kitchen and feeding the ravenous beast in his stomach. He had time to spare before school and spent it at the Coffee House with a steaming hot cup of coffee and 2 breakfast sandwiches, sighing in relief after scarfing down the first as his haranguing stomach finally settled after 20 hours without sustenance due to his self-appointed exile from the kitchen. Some sort of unconscious appeasement to his guilt by sharing the suffering of his brother’s hunger.

Before first period, Stefan did a casual pass of the history classroom. Alaric was at the front at the blackboard, busily writing with a click and scrape of chalk. Alaric had already paused and looked his way, sensing him amongst all the other students in the crowded, loud chattering hallway. Stefan stepped into the empty classroom, binder under his arm.

"Was my walk-by that obvious?" Stefan wondered wryly.

"Oh, no, I thought it was very natural." Alaric gave a small smirk as he continued writing on the board.

He chuckled quietly. "Good morning, Mr Saltzman."

"Good morning, Stefan." Alaric set the chalk at the bottom of the blackboard and dusted his hands as he turned to his desk, busily shuffling papers. "Is everything okay?"

"I am, as you can see." Stefan gestured to himself with a hand. "Damon's just in a mood, is all."

Alaric narrowed his eyes slightly. "Isn't Damon always in a mood?"

"You know how he can get." He gave a casual shrug, that was anything but. This was not just some regular Damon mood. Stefan could only remember ever once seeing such desperate hunger in Damon's eyes before and that was when he was in transition and Stefan tempted him with that maid's neck. As vampire's, unlike Stefan, Damon always held such control. Hell, he became _more_ cautious in the beginning of his vampire life than that of his human. He had just wanted to get through the next 145 years quietly until the next comet to release Katherine from the tombs; only feeding when necessary, garnering no pleasure from the feed. That changed in 1912 when he met Sage, who taught him the true pleasure of being a vampire. The hunt, the blood, the sex, even the kill when the fancy struck. He never let hunger eclipse his control, Stefan had never been so lucky. Vampirism was second nature to Damon, so it was unlike him to let his hunger get out of control.

"Want me to come over?" Alaric offered.

The warning bell rang. Stefan shot a glance into the hall, lockers slamming in cacophony. "Better not to, don't need to incite any more confrontation. I'm playing the avoiding game right now, better to just give him space right now." Before Alaric could comment on exactly what the _first_ confrontation had been, the first students started to file in. "I'll talk to you later," Stefan uttered under his breath for only the vampire to hear as he slipped out into the hall and headed for Chemistry.

...

It was a group lunch at the picnic tables out front of the school. Stefan had thinned his wallet and loaded his arms with a trip to the cafeteria. He'd paid his penance, he was finished with hunger. He didn't have to suffer anymore and he wasn't going to torture himself. Starving himself wasn't going to help Damon.

Since it was Friday and Matt's day off (as the only one among them that actually had a job), they made plans to hangout after school.

"Can we please not hang out at the Grill this time?" Matt requested. "It sucks hanging around at work when I'm not working, people recognize me and ask me for refills. It's embarrassing."

Tyler chuckled. "I bet you still get them refills!"

Matt gave him a shove, nearly toppling the striker off the edge of the bench. "Shut up, man."

Caroline rolled her eyes at them across the table, Tyler put Matt into headlock and there was a power struggle. "It's like the hotel all over again only with more clothing." She cut a silent, but raised look at Stefan.

Stefan caught it and held his hands up in innocence on his edge of the bench next to the pair of struggling football players. "Hey, I'm just trying to eat over here."

"When you two are finished," she said blandly. Matt's fist struck in the tight quarters, giving his friend a charley horse. Tyler cursed and released the blond.

Tyler smirked across at the blond cheerleader. "Sorry that wasn't as stimulating as last time."

Caroline pursed her lips. "Clearly you mistook my disgust for something else, Tyler. That must be very confusing for you when you talk to girls." They glared across at each other.

Bonnie glanced between the two and muttered to Elena next to her, "They should just save us all the grief and get a room already." Elena quickly tried to cover her snort with a cough, elbowing the witch.

"What's there to do beside going to the Grill?" Stefan wondered.

"What about bowling?" Bonnie suggested. "I go with Gram's all the time."

"Boo!" Tyler responded instantly.

"What? What's wrong with bowling?" she protested.

"Bowling is bor-ing, Bonnie."

Bonnie glowered. "It is not."

"What about laser tag?" Elena piped up with the suggestion, surprising the table. "There's actually a great arena in Lynchburg that my parent's took us to for Jeremy's 14th birthday, they even have an arcade there, too. It's only a 45 minute drive. We can go there?"

Matt and Tyler looked amped at the suggestion. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" the striker said and Bonnie stuck her tongue out at him.

"Really, Elena?" Caroline said. "I'd rather bowl." Bonnie gave her a smile across Elena. "What about you, Stefan?"

"I think both sound fun," Stefan said peaceably. "Whichever we don't end up doing tonight, we can always do next time."

"Come on, dude!" Tyler reached behind Matt and smacked the brunette on the shoulder. "Stop being Switzerland, reclaim either of your balls from Elena and Bonnie and make a decision." The witch and doppelganger protested that analogy, which the jock ignored. "Man up!"

"If you can't decide, we'll just hang out on neutral ground," Caroline concluded after a moment of silence, "The Grill."

"What?" Matt protested. He looked over at Stefan next to him, his baby blue eyes pleading. "Come on, man."

Stefan bit the inside of his cheek, green gaze flickering between the waiting pair across from him. It felt too much like picking sides, which always made him anxious, but if he didn't then Matt would suffer. He sighed quietly, his own ulterior motive prompting his choice; avoiding Damon, giving his brother his space would be all the more easier out of town, despite his preference to go bowling instead. He gave the witch an apologetic look. "Sorry, Bonnie."

Bonnie sighed. "Fine. But know, I am shooting each one of you," she said seriously. "Except for Caroline."

"I'm right there with you, Bonnie!" the blond agreed; the slapped five above Elena's head. The end of lunch bell rang. "Okay," Caroline dictated before they dispersed. "So, the same driving arrangements as last time--"

"Actually, I got extra seats that can be put in the back of my SUV," Elena interrupted. "That way we can all fit and just take one car."

"Alright," Caroline nodded. "We can all just meet up at Elena's at 5:30." They all agreed.

"They just need to be put in." Elena added.

"I can drive over after school and help you put those in," Stefan offered. "I don't have to stop at home and I was hoping I could just stash my car at your place so you don't have to go through the hassle of driving me home."

"Okay, sounds good." Elena gave him a grateful smile.

They all gathered their garbage from lunch and dispersed, heading to their lockers, then classes.

"Bonnie," Stefan quickly caught up with the other teen.

She glanced over at him as they navigated through the rush of other students. "Don't worry, Stefan. I'm not angry about the bowling."

"I'm still sorry," he told her. "I actually would have preferred to go bowling."

Bonnie stopped and looked at him in confusion. "The why did you choose laser tag?"

He pulled her aside in the hall and out of the traffic. "Damon. I think it's better to just give him some space right now. It's probably for the best after constantly being in his space the last two weeks without break. I thought it'll just be easier to do that if I wasn't actually in Mystic Falls. Plus, I have an irrational fear that this will be the one time that Damon decides he wants to go bowling."

"Okay, that's creepy." She agreed.

"You said you and Sheila go all the time... maybe I could join you sometime?"

"Sure," Bonnie smiled. "That sounds like fun, Stefan."

"Good." He squeezed her upper arm. "See you later, then." She nodded and departed, heading for her locker. Stefan backtracked to his own and got his binder, heading to Social Studies and back up with Matt.

...

When school let out for the day, Stefan stopped Elena long enough to tell her he'd be half-an-hour and not to eat, before hopping into his Porche. She grinned happily with a salute, knowing exactly what he meant. Stefan stopped at the grocery store in town, talking to Alaric on his cell phone about their plans later as he waited at the deli counter with his hand basket, before driving to the Gilbert residence.

Stefan pulled in behind Jenna's red Mini Cooper and retrieved the 2 paper bags from the passenger footwell. He climbed the steps of the porch when the woman opened the door and he was saved from the fumbling routine of trying to knock with his arms full.

"Hello, Jenna." Stefan greeted her pleasantly.

"Come on in, Stefan." She smiled, stepping aside to let him enter. She closed the door. "Elena said to expect you and be hungry." Jenna walked with him to the kitchen. "I have to tell you, Stefan, that lasagna and garlic bread she brought home a bit ago was delicious. She said you made it all yourself from scratch?" Stefan nodded as he set the bags on the breakfast counter. "How can someone so young have such talent?"

"Not as young as I look," he teased, starting to unpack the paper bags.

She groaned. "You're right, I'm only 8 years older than you. I have no idea what I'm doing!" she confided in a whisper.

"I think you're doing amazing, Jenna." Stefan told her sincerely. "It's no easy feat suddenly having to raise 2 teenagers, especially after experiencing such a devastating loss for all of you. Just be there for them, it may not seem like much, but it actually means a lot." She stared at him. He frowned, "Did I say something wrong? I overstepped, didn't I? I'm so--"

"No, no," Jenna said quickly with a raised hand. "You just really sounded older than you should. But thank you for saying that, Stefan."

Elena skipped down the stairs and into the kitchen with a huge smile. "Thought that was you. You're in for a treat, Aunt Jenna."

"If it tastes anything like that lasagna..." Jenna smiled. "I'll leave you to it, Stefan." She nudged Elena playfully with her hip on the way out.

"Two questions," Elena stated, holding up her index and middle fingers. "First, what delicious thing are you making? And second, what can I do to help?"

"Parmesan-crusted pork chops and butter-roasted sweet potatoes." Stefan informed her.

"That sound both delicious and complicated to make," she said.

"It's actually rather simple," he told her. "Come on, I'll teach you—since you didn't take my advice and take Home Ec. as an elected this semester."

Elena gave him an innocent pout. "Isn't that what you're here for?"

Stefan gave a chuckle and headshake. "Come on, better get started—I've seen your kitchen skills and they leave a lot to be desired." He said drily.

"Hey!" she protested, swatting him on the shoulder. "That just means there's lots of room for you to lay down your knowledge, Chef Salvatore. And for you to cook for me."

"Sly, Elena." He commended and listed off the cookware they would need for her to hunt down in the cupboards as he sorted through the ingredients. "Alright, let's begin with the sweet potatoes..."

It was actually fun teaching a blank slate like Elena the skill of preparing, then cooking a meal. Cooking realistically was just a serious of steps to be followed and executed, anyone could truly do it. But what marked a chef apart was the passion they felt for cooking, the pleasure garnered at other's enjoyment. It made him happy to give some of that to Elena. And soon, the kitchen table was set, Elena called for Jeremy and Jenna, and she proudly presented them with dinner.

"It's smells good," Jeremy commented as he pulled out a chair and sat before a place mat and empty plate. "But Jenna said Elena helped, are we sure it's edible?"

"It is edible!" Elena swatted at his head with the tea towel as she walked around to her spot. "And you are so gonna eat your words, Jeremy."

"I believe you..." he conceded, humour in his brown eyes, "But that's only because Stefan likes us enough to at least not want us dead." He chuckled at Elena's expression.

"It really does smell delicious, Stefan _and_ Elena." Jenna interceded peaceably.

"Thank you, Jenna." Stefan took his seat next to Elena. "Well, it's not going to eat itself."

The dishes were passed around and plates were filled, but were quickly emptied. Jeremy really did eat his words with a second serving to boot. After dinner, Stefan attempted to clean up but Jenna threw him out of the kitchen so with the 2 Gilbert siblings, they installed the extra seats in the back of Elena's SUV in under 20 minutes.

"Are you joining us, Jeremy?" Stefan asked as he pulled the SUV trunk door shut.

"Aren't you all a little old to be playing laser tag?" the 16 year old drawled equably.

"You don't have a leg to stand on," Elena countered, giving him a sisterly shove. "Not with all those First Person Shooter video games you play. At least this way we're interacting with real people."

"Are you saying all the online gamers I talk with when I play aren't real? Elena, I didn't think you were that kind of person."

Elena gave her eyes a small roll. "You know that's not what I meant." He gave her a smirk. "If you don't want to come, fine... it's not like that's really saying you're scared you can't hack it."

"Is that a challenge, sister?"

Elena arched a brow in return. "Challenge?" she gave a low chuckle. "If I remember correctly, I beat you last time."

"Fine, I'm coming." Jeremy rose his chin. "And I'm gonna wipe the floor with you."

Elena smiled. "It's almost 5:30, the others will be here soon. I'm gonna go get ready." She went up the porch steps and disappeared into the house.

"Nothing like the threat of potential humiliation by your big sister to egg you into agreeing to the challenge," Stefan mused with a chuckle. Jeremy looked at him. "You fell right into her trap, but I'm glad you decided to come, Jeremy." He clapped the other brunette on the shoulder. "Bonnie, Caroline and I will help you take her down."

Jeremy gave him a questioning look at the offer of allegiance. "Why would you do that?"

"We wanted to do bowling, but got outvoted with laser tag."

"How? There are 6 of you, wouldn't it have been a tie?"

"That was my fault," Stefan confessed quietly in contrition. "I am currently avoiding _my_ big brother instead of challenging him." There was a niggling in the back of his brain that held the bold statement that if he just realized this worrying fact, then things would shortly after fall into place. But for the life of him, it continued to elude his conscious thought and live undiscovered in his subconscious. "I thought the distance would help."

"I'm guessing he was being an asshole,"

"Bonnie called him a 'dick' but I guess it's all just relative,"

Jeremy chuckled. "Oh, you have no idea, dude. Elena may look all innocent, but that's because you dated her. You've never seen her in a competitive sibling mood. So," he stuck his hand out to Stefan in camaraderie, "Here's to one day one-upping our older siblings and may one of those days be today."

Stefan grasped his hand firmly. "I love Elena, but this just needs to be done." And a pact was made.

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**


	28. CHAPTER 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another gang outing, Stefan hadn't had a good start with these but this time there's no vampire stalking him from the shadows... or is there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Includes/Spoilers/WARNING:** gang outing/bonding, laser tag, feeding, infighting, violence, Stefan/Damon/Alaric Whump!, jealousy, possessive behaviour. Hospital, doppelganger dreams.

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Bonnie, Matt, and Caroline arrived at the Gilbert house on foot at relatively the same time, while Tyler, living the farthest away, arrived last and via his vintage Buick parked at the curb in front of the house.

"Hey, guys, right on time!" Elena smiled in greeting. "Hope you don't mind if Jeremy comes?"

"We'll see what you got soon enough, Gilbert." Tyler gave him a guy-nod. Tyler and Jeremy had called a cease-fire after coming to blows at the Job Fair earlier this school year and a grudging respect over the other's drawing skills.

"Good to have you, man." Matt fist-bumped the younger teen. "It'll be fun."

Bonnie flashed Jeremy a smile. She sniffed the air curiously and turned a suspicious gaze to Elena. "It smells good in here, Elena. A little too good."

"We just had dinner," Elena supplied. "I helped cook," she said proudly.

"Meaning Stefan cooked and you mooned," Jeremy chuckled and Elena elbowed him in the gut.

"You were a great help, Elena." Stefan assured with a smile.

"You cook, too?" Tyler complained at the former-vampire. "Dude, you gotta stop making the rest of us look bad."

"Oh, you do that all to yourself, Tyler." Caroline quipped.

Tyler leaned in toward her and replied, "But you just love a bad boy, don't you, Care?" She scoffed at him with a eye roll and he grinned.

"Now that my stomach is thoroughly jealous," Bonnie said. "Let's hit the road." The group agreed and started to file out.

"I think she's gunning for you now," Matt noted to Elena with a chuckle as they left the house. "Better watch out."

"Don't worry," Elena smiled conspiratorially at him. "I'm not as defenseless as I look."

They piled into the SUV, Elena driving, Matt in the passenger seat. Bonnie, Tyler, and Jeremy took up the backseat, and Stefan and Caroline the seats farthest back. They made good time to Lynchburg with evening traffic on the highway from Mystic Falls. Elena pulled into Shadowland Vortex's assigned parking lot; it looked to be only about a quarter filled, some of the spaces belonging to working staff.

"It doesn't look that busy," Caroline commented as she climbed out of the back-back with Tyler's strong hand in hers. "That'll be good for us."

Elena went to the machine and paid for a ticket to put into the windshield and locked up her SUV with the electronic fob on her key ring. They walked into a comfortably large front office, chairs lining the wall by the door and windows, a glass partition separated the lobby from the quiet arcade. No one was at the front desk but Elena pressed the buzzer on the desk with the taped sign saying 'buzz for assistance' and they waited.

A display board cluttered with photos by the water cooler caught the cheerleader's attention. It was a 'Hall of Fame' board with laser tag players. Caroline stopped and backtracked, gobsmacked for a shocked moment; no, her eyes truly weren't deceiving her. "Elena," her tone drew the attention of the others. She looked over at the brunette, who was giving her own curious expression. "Is that a picture of you?"

The others crowded around Caroline to get a look and Elena grinned as she realized what her best-friend had found. "Yeah. That was at Jeremy's birthday party. Remember, Jer?" she playfully nudged her little brother, who scowled at her.

"You played dirty," he muttered.

"Don't be a sore loser." She teased him. "Got my picture taken and everything. I can't believe I forgot about that."

Stefan smiled when he finally spotted it. There was Elena, newly turned 16, war painted on her face, a huge white-toothed grin, decked out in laser tag gear, her hair cut shoulder length and tied in a half-pony. A cheap partly hat donning her head. She held none of the grief that had weighted her shadow when he had met her. This was before Wickery Bridge, before she lost her parents and met Stefan and let all his drama into her life. This was the girl with all her family around her, a boyfriend in Matt and a bright, normal future ahead of her. He surreptitiously snapped a picture of it on his cell phone.

Tyler turned to her. "I can't believe you got onto the Hall of Fame."

Elena narrowed her eyes. "Because I'm a girl?"

"No," he smirked, "Because you're you."

"Then I'll put you on my hit list and show you just how good I am." She returned.

Tyler grinned with teeth. "This'll be fun."

"Easy, guys." Matt tried to referee; first Bonnie and Elena, now Tyler, too? "We're all just here for some fun, not out to get blood."

"Grow some, Matt. Don't go all 'knight in shinning armour' because she's your ex." Tyler said. "She clearly doesn't need it right now." The challenge and confidence shone in their brown gazes as they stood across from each other.

"You asked for this," Bonnie muttered to Matt. "You should have picked bowling."

He just sighed and shrugged. "Too late now, Bon. But this will definitely make things more interesting."

"Hello," a guy in his late 20's wearing a Shadow Vortex uniform shirt and Adam nametag greeted from behind the front desk. "How can I help you?"

"Hello," Elena smiled politely. "Party of 7 for laser tag."

"Do you have a reservation?" Elena shook her head. He smiled, "Then you're in luck; we're not very busy at the moment and there are no reservations booked for the rest of the night. I'll just get each of you to sign a waver that states should an injury occur on the premises during the duration of your stay, Shadowland Vortex is not liable, pay and we can get started." Adam handed out the agreements and everyone took a pen from the waiting cup and signed. He put them into a tray and clapped his hands. "Follow me!" They were led down a back hall next to the reception desk and into a room. A set of metal tables lined the center of the room, racks of various equipment adorned the walls. "So, to get started, are there any of you who haven't played laser tag before?" Stefan, Bonnie, and Caroline raised their hands. "Alright, I'll focus on you three and this will also act as a refresher course for the rest of you." Adam proceeded to take the following 30 minutes to give them a tutorial on how to use the equipment pack they had each selected.

Team formation was a little awkward with an odd number, but it was quickly decided that one team would just have an extra player. To make it fair, the 3 among them with the least experience would do rock-paper-scissors to see which two would end up on the same team together with an experienced player. Caroline and Bonnie ended up teamed with Tyler and designated Team Green. Then it was just a matter of pulling a partner's name and somehow it worked out Gilbert v. Gilbert. Jeremy and Stefan were assigned Team Red. Matt and Elena were Team Blue. Fate had somehow given the doppelganger the one team-mate who wasn't sort of secretly or not so secretly out to dethrone the Hall of Famer.

They donned their packs, which consisted of their vest and phaser. The vests had lighted sensors on their chest, back and either shoulder, a sensor was also on the gun. Each pack had a designated code name on the small display screen, keeping account for every shot landed and hit received. Stefan was Zebra and Jeremy—Charlie. Bonnie—X-Ray and Tyler—Alpha and Caroline—Viper. Elena—Tango and Matt—Romeo.

It was (J.) Gilbert v. (E.) Gilbert v. (T.) Lockwood, Team Elimination!

A direct hit stunned the receiver, leaving them momentarily unable to return fire until their pack returned to its original team colour after briefly changing to the shooter's colour. Only 5 shots could be fired per minute. After 20 hits the player was eliminated until end of the current game.

Adam let them study the map of their arena of play. Shadowland Vortex had 3 indoor zones to play in. Because they weren't booked, the Mystic Falls Gang got to play in their own zone. Finally, through a second door in the equipment room, they were lead down a short, darkened hall, highlight arrows and marks on the black walls to lead there way through an open threshold and into their play arena. The door was visibly marked with LED lighting, this was their start point and their way out of the arena.

The general overhead lighting was a low watt of black light, with the occasion strobe of light. The zone was a maze of partitions, marked like the hall with highlights to prevent players from simply walking straight into them. The walls varied in height and length, some had windows to shoot through. Nooks to squirrel away in, ramps to play off of, crates to hide behind. It was a proper battleground and nurtured the excitement of the teenagers with dark atmosphere.

"Alright, one minute scatter delay." Elena said to the group, grabbed Matt's arm and pulled him away into the maze, the blue lights on their packs disappearing swiftly behind a partition.

"Isn't that like taking off before the starter pistol?" Caroline frowned in complaint.

"Caroline, come on!" Bonnie shouted to the blond as she and Tyler took off.

"Don't leave me behind!" the cheerleader cried out, dashing after her team-mates.

Stefan and Jeremy shared a quick, amused look. "Come on, we've got a sister to dethrone." Stefan followed close behind the little brother on a mission, his phaser held at his chest two-handed.

"How do you want to play this?" Stefan whispered quietly when they found a good place to defend while they talked strategy.

"We should stick together," Jeremy said. "But not so together that we can be ambushed and tagged together."

So it was decided they would shadow each other, if one was tagged, the other would swoop in and shoot the enemy. Stefan took the lead, bait really, as Jeremy shadowed him as the one with more experience and the better shot.

Stefan may have been in war, and just because he was an ambulance driver didn't mean he didn't have a gun, didn't mean he wasn't forced to use it to protect his fellow injured brothers, didn't mean he hadn't done his own share of killing.

In 1942 to '45, it hadn't been his hunger that was his biggest contender, it was having the power, the means in his very blood to heal those suffering men, take away even the most minor pains that seemed inconsequential to others, like trench foot. But a healed man was fit for duty and put back into the battle, recycled fodder. And with his vampire blood circulating in their systems... when they inevitably got injured again and died with it in their system, they would awake again in transition. Awaken confused and disorienting and with such a craving and hunger with no idea what for. Awaken with the frightening experience of their death, body weakening, fading with each heartbeat yet feeling invincible, with an uncaged energy, unexpected strength. Awaken with the sun too bright, senses overwhelmed, overloaded, the sounds of report, of death. Awaken with that consuming craving to a battlefield staunch with the dying and sand drinking up their blood. The field would soon be overrun with rabid bampies that didn't know what they were or how to control themselves, taken over with bloodlust for the overflowing buffet of both their fellow soldiers and the enemy ranks. Stefan had taken the same advantage on 1864 when he first turned during the Civil War and preyed on the dying without notice. But come sunrise, they'd burn up in the sun horrendously.

It had taken an emotional toll on Stefan, on his soul. Having the means to heal and save these men, but knowing that to do so would cause an even worse fait. Knowing that any number that he saved would be swiftly overtaken with a death toll that would push him clear over the edge, passed his humanity switch and into the Other Side. He had been close to breaking his resolve and feeding men his blood as he was swamped with their moans of agony, but he kept to it, and his strict diet of animal blood. He couldn't even come to terms with those men, crying for their mothers, pleading for the pain and terror to end as food sources, despite the overwhelming scent of blood, rapidly pumping hearts, and his unquenchable hunger—it made him physically ill to even think about drinking human blood.

Stefan didn't need to contend with any of that now. This was just a fun game of tag with light guns, no one got hurt, no one died. He was human now, just like them. He held no unprecedented advantage over any of his friends, he was as literally in the dark as everyone else. And that was what made him the most excited, filled his chest with a mixture of anticipation and mild anxiety.

Stefan froze, pressing against the wall as someone's vest emitted the hit noise, really close by. He glanced back, knowing Jeremy was close, had to have heard it and responded immediately, flanking their enemies.

"Yes, I shot you!" Caroline squealed in delight. Stefan, going low, crept forward and hid behind a crate.

"Caroline!" Bonnie shouted. "You shot **me**."

"What? Oh. Bonnie, oh, my god, I'm so sorry!" Caroline quickly apologized. "You surprised me and I just reacted."

Stefan smirked and popped up from behind the crate. "Surprise!" both girls cried out in surprise, their packs briefly flickering red, whining down, as Stefan shot them before they could react defensively.

"Not cool, dude!" Tyler surprised him from behind before he could fire again. Stefan quickly made his escape as his vest resumed its original Team Red colour. "You don't just stand around in the open," Tyler scolded his team-mates. "Come on."

Jeremy quickly used his advantage of the hole in the wall he was behind before he lost line of sight on Team Green. Tyler and Caroline's packs crashed after flashing red.

"Cover!" Tyler shouted and the scramble for it. Tyler had caught the flash of red from Jeremy's phaser before the teen could duck down unseen. "I know that's you, Gilbert! No way Stefan made it all over there."

Jeremy didn't fall for the bait and callout, giving the direction of his location away. They barely even begun and Stefan was already having fun, more even than at King's Dominion. There was no vampire stalking him from the shadows, no anvil shadow looming over his head. This was pretend, no staking Elena's family members, no carrying Bonnie into the lion's den. Stefan smiled, his boots quiet on the floor as he moved with careful purpose. They'd found Team Green, but still out there somewhere, Team Blue was waiting.

Being in the near dark, in an adrenaline reacting environment, it sharpened his senses, heightened his breathing which he focused on keeping low. He could hear a phaser firing, a vest going off in the distance. A hissed curse. The rustle of clothing or clip of a sharp heel in haste. The scrape of the vest against the wall as someone turned a corner too sharp. Stefan gave his head a shake. Or those were just all the things he thought he could hear, or would have been able to clear as a bell if he were still a vampire. If he were a vampire... this really would be too fun of a hunt for him, encourage the blood lust. But right now, it was just your regular, normal human competitive instinct.

Stefan inhaled sharply but managed to stop any other sound from escaping him as he collided with Jeremy. They let out quiet sounds of relief as they met with packs of red.

"I saw a blue pack," Jeremy hissed. "I think it was Matt, Elena has to be nearby, too. I heard Team Green getting hit a minute ago, if you're here, that must have been Elena and Matt. I was gonna circle around."

Stefan nodded. "Circle away, I'll shadow you."

Jeremy nodded. They fist-bumped and Jeremy moved right. Stefan moved after him. Jeremy disappeared around a corner and a few moments Stefan would follow after, ducking behind crates, pressing against walls. Stefan thought he saw a flash of green from his peripheral on his left and fell back, quickly dropping as Jeremy's red pack disappeared down the corridor. He felt like an idiot as he carefully peaked out and discovered that it was just LED on the partition, designed to garner that exact reaction.

Stefan was about to rise and continue after Jeremy when he felt the fine hairs on his nape stand on end and he whipped his head around sharply, peering into the hall of darkness, the random shots of LED lights and glowing tape interfering with his ability to pick anything else out. He stayed still, even held his breath, ears pricked for any sound from his friends hiding around the corner but all he could hear was his heartbeat pounding in his ears

He heard someone get tagged and when he turned back, a black figure swooped upon him.

...

"Sorry, Matt!" Jeremy called from behind a ramp. "It's nothing personal, you're on Elena's team and that makes you the enemy."

"It feels a _little_ personal," Matt uttered in counter, ducking behind a partition as his vest came back to colour.

"If you want me, Jer." Elena shot him, standing above him on the ramp in all her blue-flashing laser glory. "Then have the guts to come for me."

Elena's vest suddenly flashed green as she was tagged before either Gilbert could react. "In your little sibling rivalry, you forgot one thing—me!" Tyler quickly shot Jeremy as his pack came back online.

Elena quickly spun, firing at the striker as her pack came back blue, quickly back into her own cover as Tyler dived for his, his vest flashing blue as he was hit. Tyler cursed, staying low to see if he could find a better vantage on the siblings, only to catch blue from the corner of his eye. Before Tyler could move, Matt was standing over him.

"I'm still here," Matt chuckled as he fired, ducking around the wall as Tyler's vest flashed blue again.

"Oh, Matt." The quarterback's sneakers squeaked against the floor as he came to a sudden stop, Caroline's phaser pointed directly at his chest as she fired. She disappeared. His vest came back blue only to immediatly flash green.

"Hi, Matt." He turned sharply to see Bonnie, her face glowing green. "Bye, Matt." She disappeared as fast as Caroline.

Hugging the wall, his back to it, Matt inched along. He was surrounded by Team Green, Jeremy was hunkering around here somewhere, that was just proved as he heard the whine of a struck vest and Jeremy's voice. That left the question of Stefan's location.

...

It was a quick series of incomprehensible streams of light that his visual cortex couldn't process, before it was just dark, his heart in his throat as he was slammed roughly against the wall. Stefan instantly started to struggle against his vampire captor’s superior hold. This could not be happening again!

"Stop struggling!" was hissed after his fist connected with flesh.

It took a moment for the familiarity of the voice to penetrate through the adrenaline enhanced flight-or-fight instinct and he stilled. His vision reasserted itself and the man's pale face flashed red from the only source of light in the darkness from the sensors on Stefan's pack, his phaser hanging down to the floor by the spiral cord, muzzle scraping against the tile. "Damon?" he panted, confused, hand's clenching his leather clad upper arms. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Do you wanna guess how many people I've killed tonight?" Damon wondered.

Stefan tensed. "What?"

"It being you, I should expect even if I answer one, that would be one too many already in your saintly opinion." Damon surmised. "Sorry to disappoint, but it was more than one, brother."

"Damon, what are you talking about? What did you do?" Stefan demanded, fingers digging into leather, pushing even though the vampire didn't budge from pressing him against the wall.

"Don't you know, Stefan?" Damon queried. "It's your fault after all, you're the one who did this to me, who caused it." Flashing in the red lights, his pupils pinpricks, his gaze was frenzied.

Stefan's breath hitched. "I know," he admitted quietly, his earlier guilt upon the matter crashing back on him. He steeled himself, "But you have to tell me what's going on, Damon."

Damon stilled for a minute, his head tipping minuscule to the right as he regarded his tight-lipped brother, and let out a sharp bark of laughter that startled Stefan and echoed around. Stefan glanced around worriedly, if someone heard and came, in Damon's current temperament he would slaughter them. "That is priceless. You admit that it's your fault, but you haven't realized why. I'm _hungry_ , Stefan, that's what's going on, that is what my problem is. You've spent the last 2 weeks sucking me dry! You drained my Power like some kind of demented **_Stefubus_**. I've drained my blood bag reserve in the basement, I've tried drinking from Andie, I've drained walking, talking Happy Meals—and it hasn't even made a dent." Damon shoved him back again, veins crawling under his eyes like black tendrils against chalky skin and flashing red light. "So, what am I doing here, you ask? I'm fucking starving and I'm here to get my due, Stefan. I'm out of options. It's here, now." His gaze dropped to his throat, fingers tracing almost reverently over Stefan's thrumming artery, his sclera flushing with dark blood.

Stefan had never found Damon's true-face frightening; it never goaded any fear in him, as a vampire or human, it was just a who Damon was like his annoying smirk or his favouritism of Fruit Loops. But right now, the hunger in his brother's red eyes, the slow flashing glow of Stefan's vest his only source of light, it made him a little anxious. "Not from there..." Stefan said weakly.

"Why not?" Damon's gaze was fixated and Stefan swallowed at the sight of his brother's wicked fangs flashing behind his upper lip as he remarked carelessly, "Everyone else has."

Stefan flinched in response to his caustic remark a millisecond before he uttered an involuntary small cry as Damon lunged forward the short distance, latching onto his throat, fangs piercing into his left carotid. It made him sound like some kind of... fang whore. He didn't ask Katherine to feed from him, either when he was a human or a vampire; John fed from him when he was unconscious. Ric was the only vampire that Stefan had _asked_ to feed from him, the only one.

He grimaced a little as he felt the desperation of Damon's hunger. He remembered how Damon would quickly finish off a blood bag the morning after a night of dream manipulation, he remembered the trash can full of blood bags in the trash yesterday morning. How could he have not made the connection? All the clues were there, the link to it all just a bedroom away. Did he just not want to see it? He had known that he was absorbing Damon's Power, but he didn't realize he was _siphoning_ , it, draining it. He remembered what he'd done to Bonnie when she checked his aura; is that what he had been doing to Damon nightly for the last 2 weeks? He remembered how good he felt after only a minute draining Bonnie's Bennett magic, and how good he felt draining Damon's. He was supposed to be getting better, how come he wasn't getting better?

Stefan squeezed his eyes closed against the prick behind his eyes, his fingers fisted in Damon's leather jacket as his brother continued to feed. He didn't struggle against him. He'd drunk Damon's blood, had siphoned his Power, it only seemed fair. Damon's hold shifted on him, he slowed, that desperate edge no longer controlling him, but continued to feed, almost like a baby have fallen asleep at its mother's breast, continuing to suckle even in sleep. He was feeling a bit jelly-legged. Stefan couldn't help but subconsciously register how different Damon felt than Alaric; a different kind of bite behind his fangs, a larger surface pierced by both canine and premolar fangs, the suction of his lips, the press of his tongue as he drank. The scent of Damon's cologne, the smell of his shampoo as the longer strands of his black hair tickled the underside of Stefan's jaw, the lack of prickly stubble that Stefan loved.

Stefan was light-headed by the time Damon's released him. He'd only been feeding for under 2 minutes, but it was enough, exceeding what Alaric usually drank, he'd taken a lot. Stefan watched, leaning heavily back against the wall, Damon still holding him in place as his brother's head tipped back, his eyes hooded almost in revelry, a small sound of gratification leaving his throat, mouth black with blood in the flashing vest sensors. It was eerily similar to the dream he'd had the other morning. Damon licked his teeth and lips clean of blood as his vampire features slowly melted away. He wiped the blood clean from his chin on his hand and with piercing blue eyes locked to his, sucked it off. Stefan could feel the warmth of his blood coating the side of his neck, skin clammy.

Damon took his chin and none too gently turned his head, inspecting his handy work with a little smirk at the corner of his mouth. He leaned forward so their faces were an inch apart. "Should have done that in the kitchen, should have done that that morning."

"Damon--" Stefan started when Damon grasped his upper arm, pulling him from the wall.

"Come on," Stefan was left no other choice but to stumble after his brother through the dizzying darkness.

He read the exit sign above the door and managed to shed his pack before Damon pulled Stefan out through the fire exit and into a dark lot behind Shadowland Vortex. Damon released him and propelled him forward. Stefan tripped headlong, palms slamming down on the powder blue convertible hood to steady himself. He went around to passenger side and sat heavily in the front seat, Damon already waiting behind the wheel. The engine rumbled to life and Damon pulled out into the sparse traffic, Elena's SUV disappearing from view in the rear-view.

Stefan reached up and carefully checked his neck and found out why he could still feel the warmth; the puncture wounds were still bleeding sluggishly. Bloody fingers snagged the stray napkin in the cup holder and pressed it against the wound; the thin tissue quickly saturated with blood. "I need--"

"Yeah, yeah," Damon uttered. He cut through the on-coming traffic lane to blaring horns and into a parking lot to the Lynchburg pharmacy, leaving Stefan in the car.

Stefan watched through the large windows obscured with various signs and advertisements as Damon idly scoured the aisles, occasionally picking an item off the shelf. He wondered how long it would be until the others realized he wasn't there, how would they react when they found his discarded pack by the fire exit? He had the petty thought: _why couldn't you have waited until I got home after laser tag_? But Stefan knew, consumed with that desperate of a hunger that the vampire was unused to, Damon wasn't thinking of things like that, just feeding, sating the hunger.

Stefan fished his cell phone from his pocket with his clean right hand. He thought of just sending a text but neither Bonnie or Elena would accept that without actually _hearing_ his voice so he tapped the phone icon. He slumped back, elbow propped on the door to support his tired limb as the line rang, his eyes slipping closed.

"Stefan? Stefan!" his name was called over the line.

He forced his eyes open. "Hey--"

"Why are you calling? Did you get lost?" she chuckled in amusement.

"No, no, um, I had to leave, Bonnie."

"What? I don't understand."

"Something came up. Damon grabbed me."

"Are you okay?" was the instant worry.

"I'm okay--"

"What aren't you saying?" she growled.

"No one's in danger, I'm fine, I promise. It's just brother business, okay? I'll call you later."

There was a long moment of silence on the other end. "Okay," Bonnie finally said reluctantly. "But call, Stefan, if--"

"I will," he whispered. "Have fun, okay? Don't worry on my account, you'll make me feel guilty." He watched Damon open the drug store door, a plastic bag in hand.

She didn't make any promises. "Bye, Stefan."

"Bye, Bon." Stefan ended the call and set his cell on the dashboard, glancing over when Damon opened the driver's door.

Damon tossed the plastic bag into his lap before he climbed in. Stefan sorted through the bag's contents as Damon pulled from the lot and into traffic, not paying attention to the direction they were going. There were sterile wipes and gauze pads, tape, bottle of water, bottle of orange juice, a lunchable, a bag of mini Chip's Ahoy! "What this?" Stefan pulled a small roll from the bag with bloody fingers, holding it up, unable to see it properly in the poor light.

"Life Savers," Damon plucked it from his fingers, breaking open the wrapper and popping one in his mouth as he drove. "They're mine but I'll be nice and share with my anaemic little brother," and before Stefan could stop him, the vampire popped one into his mouth. Saliva instantly flooded Stefan's dry mouth. "I saved your life now stop bleeding on my upholstery." Damon flicked a hand at him, eyes on the road, tossing his candy in the cup holder. "It's like you want me to eat you again."

Stefan just turned back to the bag in his lap. He turned on the interior light and flipped down the visor to get a look at the what he was dealing with. He peeled away the saturated napkin and started to clean up his neck with the wipes, the shoulder of his shirt dark with blood. He pressed a piece of folded gauze against the wound and taped it in place, and used another wipe to finish cleaning up the rest of the blood staining his skin. He cracked open the orange juice, grimacing at the first few swallows at it clashed with the taste of lime on his tongue from the Life Saver.

Stefan paid more attention when the car jostled as Damon pulled into another lot, his thick brows furrowing as he red the large lighted sign: Lynchburg General. "Why did you pull in here?" his hand went self-consciously to his neck.

"We're out of town and I need to replenish my supply at home if you've forgotten." Damon said, parking in a handicap spot. He looked over at Stefan, a strip of light cutting across the lower half of his face, his gleaming fangs peaking behind smirking lips, "Unless you're up for round two." Stefan frowned at him. "That's what I thought. Stay in the car." He got out and walked the short distance through the front automatic doors.

Stefan's fingers drummed anxiously on the door rest as he waited, one minute feeling like three. He made himself take out the Lunchable from the bag still in his lap, pull off the cardboard, peel back the plastic and started to assemble the meat, cheese, and crackers. It was a great distraction and his body was starving, eating them in single bites. By the time he finished the Lunchable and had already started in on the Chip's Ahoy! Damon finally came strolling back out the automatic doors carrying a couple cooler straps over his shoulder.

Stefan watched as Damon got in, leaning over to stow the coolers on the floor behind Stefan's seat. "Why did you wait?" the brunette asked as his brother settled back into his seat. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

Damon started the car. "You think I wanted this, Stefan?" Stefan pursed his lips and turned his head against the rest to look out the passenger window, grimacing slightly as it pulled on the fang wound. "What happened in the kitchen should have been telling enough for you, brother." And he was right, Stefan should have made the connection then and there.

"You still should have told me," he protested feebly.

"I shouldn't of had to," was the unarguable retort as he pulled into traffic from the hospital exit.

Stefan squeezed his eyes closed with guilt. There was silence for a few moments before Stefan got the courage to wonder quietly: "Did it help?"

"We'll see," was Damon's short answer.

Stefan stayed quiet after that, head back against the headrest. Somewhere along the quiet highway with the vibrations of the car and his own exhaustion, dozed off. He jolted awake when the driver's door shut and was confused for a moment as he woke to the dark interior of Damon's convertible. He straightened, rubbing his eyes with one hand and unclipping the seat belt he didn't recall putting on with the other. He squinted through the windshield and recognized the dark shadow of the Boarding House and Damon disappearing through the front door. He gave a quiet groan as he lumbered stiffly from the convertible, briefly resting his arm on the roof as he closed the door, breathing in the cool air

Stefan finally pushed from the car and slowly picked his way across the drive, stepped through the open front door and closed it behind him. Hand against the wall to steady himself, he toed off his boots. His trek upstairs was slow, hand gripping the railing as he still felt the lethargy, the muscle weakness. He'd need more than some orange juice, a Lunchable, half a pack of cookies and a nap in the car to set him right again. He turned on his bedroom light, the clock on his nightstand said 10:58. He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in his bathroom trash, the shoulder stiff with dried blood; it was too late to save the shirt and even if it wasn't, he wasn't in the frame to put any effort into trying. The gauze from his neck, sticking to the scabs, joined it. With a warm, soapy cloth he washed his neck, over and behind his shoulder, his chest, down his arm. Stefan paused, his gaze shifting down in the mirror reflection from Damon's bite, to Alaric's older one a few days back at the crook of shoulder and neck before pressing a skin-tone Band-Aid over Damon's and turned from the mirror.

He paused for a torturously conflicted moment to stare longingly at his unmade bed; he just wanted to go to sleep and deal with all this in the morning but that just wasn't going to do. He pulled on a thick sweater overhead and made his way downstairs. He was on the way to the kitchen when he heard the front door and his name called.

"Ric," Stefan half-turned, subconsciously angling his left side away from Alaric. "What are you doing here?"

"Bonnie called, she was worried." Alaric slowly approached. "And you weren't picking up your cell."

He remembered it sitting on the dash in the Camaro. Stefan frowned slightly. "She shouldn't have done that, I told her I was fine."

"You don't look fine," Alaric murmured, hand cupping his cheek. "You look pale, what happened?" the dirty-blond's pinkie brushed the edge of the Band-Aid high on his neck and before Stefan could try to come up with a response, Alaric turned his chin and revealed the side of his neck. "What happened, Stefan, you're hurt."

"It's fine, it's--" but before Stefan could pull his hand away, Alaric peeled back the edge of the Band-Aid and revealed the truth. Stefan swallowed as he watched Alaric go supernaturally still.

"You were bit," Alaric muttered, lips barely moving. "By another vampire." His thumb grazed the tender edge of the larger fang shape. "Damon," was the low hiss.

"It's always nice to be recognized on-site by the little bampies," Damon remarked snarkily 10 feet down the hall behind Stefan. "You know a superior fang when you see one."

Alaric's fist clench, a low growl in his chest as he glared over Stefan at his brother. "What did you do?" dark veins rippled under his eyes.

Stefan pressed the Band-Aid back in place with his left hand and rested his right on Alaric's chest, but the vampire made no indication that he even felt it there. "I can--"

But Damon spoke over him. "Just a bit of a taste," he sucked his teeth lewdly. Damon chose to feed from where he did to create a maximum effect on several levels. Easy access, easy blood flow. It was on dominant display, hard to cover. Lastly, for purely personal and recreation purposes, it would get the most explosive reaction from the other vampire, his essential rival when it came to his little brother—and that was exactly what he got.

Stefan suddenly stumbled back a step. He instinctively flinched. Spun around as Alaric slammed Damon against the dark panelled wall, his true-face overtaking his features.

Damon had on a keyed up grin in the face of his cracked skull. "You're a jealous hothead, how predictable of you, Ricky." Damon grabbed him and reversed their positions, slamming the teacher in his place against the wall. "The only reason you were able kill Logan Fell was because he was an arrogant idiot and you have that innocuous stupid look called your face. Pure luck, no skill involved."

Alaric shoved him off and swung. Damon dodged, grabbed the side of his head and slammed it into the side table, splintering it in half and leaving Alaric groaning briefly in a pile of splintered wood.

"Stop!" Stefan exclaimed. "What--" Alaric suddenly lunged up from his downed position, but was met with empty air as Stefan suddenly found himself enfolded in Damon's arms, back to his brother's chest, his wrists immobilized by iron fingers. "Damon, what are you doing?!" he demanded.

Damon ignored him as he squirmed ineffectually in his hold, gaze trained on the other vampire, standing rigid 15 feet away, a bit of blood in his hair at his temple. Alaric's red eyes narrowed as he watched the raven-haired man, fury ticking away inside as Damon's free hand not binding Stefan's wrists reached up and cupped his throat. Stefan instantly stilled. Dark veins engorged under Damon's piercing blue gaze, wicked fangs free. Alaric's stance shifted subtly, but was easily caught by the older vampire. "Uh-uh," Damon tsked, breath brushing against the side of Stefan's throat. Alaric stilled. Damon's blunted thumbnail scraped over the artery on the right side of Stefan's neck, briefly raising the beating blood vessel to the surface. "Don't be so childish as to as to believe this was the first time, _Ric_. Valentine's Day. Don't think you were so special with that heart box; they were mine before they were yours."

Alaric's gaze flickered to Stefan. His jaw ticked as he saw the truth of Damon's words in the guilt in Stefan's eyes. "Ric--" but the dirty-blond closed him off, turning his hot focus on his brother. Stefan felt Damon's satisfied smirk pressed against his skin with lips and fang. "Damon, stop," Stefan pleaded, "Both of you--"

"Let him go!" Alaric snarled.

"Or what?" Damon challenged.

"Let him go... stop being a coward, using him as a shield and face me."

"Hmm," Damon chuckled in quiet amusement at the declaration, the pad of his thumb stroking Stefan's throat in continued taunt. Alaric's hands fisted.

Stefan tried to thrash but Damon had him in a vice. "Let me go!" he ordered through clenched teeth but it fell on deaf ears. It was just like back in December after he got out of the hospital; he wasn't there, he was just something to fight over.

Damon's leg shifted back an inch, Alaric's shoulder twitched. Stefan felt Damon's grip on him alter and abruptly found his world a-turn as Damon spun him from his arms and both vampires charged the short distance between them with frightening speed. Stefan barely managed to avoid crashing into the arch of the parlor and fell to his hands and knees passed the threshold. He swallowed, breathing deeply, trying to reassert the his equilibrium from the sudden spin like he was a toy top, with the underlying dizziness from the blood loss he was already dealing with and he pushed to his feet.

Alaric flipped Damon, slamming him against the floor. "You had no right to feed from him."

Damon booted Alaric in the stomach with both feet, throwing him backward, breathless, down the hall to bounce off the wall, an antique frame falling broken on top of him, no doubt cracking a few ribs in return. Damon speed to his feet. Alaric palmed a broken piece of the intricately carved wooden frame and climbed to his own, it hidden from view.

Damon scoffed, straightening his leather jacket. "You don't have exclusive feeding-rights over my brother. You don't own my brother. In fact, he's been mine longer, so really, I get dibs."

"I'm not some blood dispenser," Stefan growled, and got what he expected—ignorance. He should have gone to bed; he didn't think he had the emotional wherewithal for this right now.

Alaric lunged with a snarl.

"Ric, no!" Stefan barely succeeded to catch sight of the makeshift stake as Alaric thrusted it before Damon managed to grab his wrist, stopping the descent. They grappled, struggling for control over the weapon.

"Remember the first time we did this?" Damon reminisced. "I'm feeling nostalgic, let's relive the moment I killed you the first time." Their arms jerked between them. There was an instant of stillness before a cry of pain was ripped from Alaric. Damon stepped back and Alaric dropped to his knees.

"Alaric," Stefan fell to his knees at Alaric's side, hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, let me see." He straightened the vampire from his slight curled form and had to swallow back bile at the sight of the jagged piece of frame sticking out, the material around it black with blood in the dim lighting. He remembered too vividly all those months ago coming home to find Alaric laying dead in the sitting room in front of the lit fireplace, stake protruding from his abdomen, Damon nonchalantly drinking bourbon. "I'm gonna take it out," Stefan comfortingly squeezed his nape, his hand shaky as his fingers curled around the wood; from the memory, from his current condition. He had to brace himself.

"Unh!" Alaric groaned when Stefan pulled the stake free with a sharp jerk. He'd been staked before, but somehow, it was a hundred times more painful now than when he'd been human. It was as painful going in as it was coming out.

"It's the wood," Damon remarked, reading the pained confusion in the teacher's eyes. "It just adds that excruciating _je ne sais quoi_ to vampires. I could stick a white hot fire poker in you and that still wouldn't be as painful as the wood."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Stefan demanded of his brother.

"Why are you giving me flak?" Damon complained. "He's the one that brought a stake to a fistfight!"

"You that one that sta--" Stefan found himself on ass and elbows, almost practically below and between the 2 vampires with the clean, unobstructed view as Alaric rammed his hand into Damon's stomach, it plunging into his abdomen after blurring to his feet. Damon grunted painfully.

Damon's knees locked, his hands gripping the offending forearm in a painful grip, slowly crushing bone. Alaric ignored it, his left hand fisted the material at Damon's shoulder, keeping him from collapsing. "Remember the time Stefan tried to comfort you and you ripped his liver out?" Alaric said lowly through gritted fang, close to Damon's ear. "Let's see if you can take it."

"Hn," blood marred the corner of Damon's mouth. "Do it. I dare you." He muttered back below Stefan's hearing. "See how he looks at you then."

Alaric viciously yanked his hand out, going back a step with the force, fist full of something bloody and oozing. Damon dropped to the floor with a grunt like a puppet with its strings cut, arms wrapped around his abdomen. Stefan looked up at his boyfriend, stunned in a moment of horror as the vampire's shoulders heaved, hand fisted around a dark mass, his true-face smoothing back to his natural visage. His attention was diverted at his brother's low groan.

"Damon." Stefan quickly crawled over to him. There was only a slight instinctive resistance when Stefan tried to pull Damon's blood-covered hands away. Stefan couldn't see anything for Damon's dark shirt so he peeled it back to reveal the dark, gory, fist-sized hole set in pale skin painted in blood. He could only stand to stare at it for 30 seconds in wait to see signs of healing, but there didn't appear to be any. Damon had to have taken at least 2 pints from him earlier at Shadowland Vortex with how he had been feeling; Alaric never took that much, maybe half and a pint to a third, never more than that so despite how large this injury, 2 pints less than 2 hours ago should have been sufficient to hasten Damon's healing ability. On the other hand, Stefan remembered how depleted his Power had been... perhaps it wasn't enough if his healing still wasn't up to par. He needed more blood and Stefan didn't give his automatic response a second thought. "You need to drink, Damon." Stefan pushed his sleeve up his forearm and pressed his left wrist to his brother's mouth. Damon's pained gaze flicked to his in momentary surprise and actually hesitated. "You're Power's still depleted. You need the blood." Stefan brushed the hair from his sweaty forehead. "It's okay, you need to feed."

Damon reached up, bloodied fingers gently wrapped around Stefan's bare forearm. Dark veins crawled under his hooded eyes and he bit down gently, his sharp fangs easily piercing through the thin skin at the inside of Stefan's wrist. Stefan watched him feed for a moment before he trained his gaze on the gaping wound in his abdomen.

"He staked me and you're feeding him your blood?!" Alaric demanded incredulously, unable to hold back. "Just get him a blood bag!"

"You ripped his liver out, Ric." Stefan glanced over at him. "His Power's been depleted, because of me. He needs the blood. You were healed within 7 seconds after I pulled the stake out." He turned his focus back to Damon. "Regenerating an organ is a little more difficult than that." He nearly slumped down on the floor next to his brother with relief as it started to shrink. "It's healing."

Damon's fangs released him and he slumped his head back against the rug, his hold lingering. He was all too familiar with the process, pain, and Power required to regenerate internal organs, but that was a past not to be thought about. He turned his head slightly, Stefan's focus on his healing wound, he cast his gaze to the teacher for a moment.

Alaric glared, hands clenching. One hand squelching with it's vital contents. He dropped it with a look of disgust. He remembered the smug look the older vampire sent him as he fed from Stefan's wrist. "And you believe him?"

"He'd my brother, I know him." Stefan said, carefully wiping the drying blood away with his fingers as Damon's wound continued to shrink, attempting not to remember the last time when they were in a similar position, it was Stefan that put a stake in him with the intent to kill. But this was essentially by his hand, too, wasn't it? Alaric did this because of _him_. "He can be an absolute wretched asshole. He lives to push people's buttons and get a reaction. But he wouldn't cross that line to get one—just use the aftermath to kick up some dust."

"I am right here, ya know." Damon muttered all in good humour.

"You're always defending him, even now." Alaric said. "Even when _I_ was defending you against him, you take his side."

"I didn't need defending," Stefan muttered. _Except maybe from the **both** of you_. "I'm not taking sides." He could really use a nap right now, he was both exhausted physically and emotionally. He was tempted to lean more of his tired weight onto his forearm resting across Damon's chest, but didn't.

He could sleep right here, against Damon; all he had to do was lower himself the last few feet onto his forearm and he would be divine. It wasn't like it had never been a common occurrence in their human lives, even discounting his episodic illness as a young child, nights of nightmares or harm by Giuseppe. There were times when he sought his big brother out simply because and Stefan could count on his fingers in his 162 years the number of times Damon actually turned him away. Stefan could remember the long summer days, just the two of them, swimming at the quarry, running through the wood and climbing their favourite tree, playing hide-and-seek, when they were finished they would collapse on top of each other in the grass, laughing, watch the clouds drift by, the flocks of birds swoop overhead... and almost always at the end of the day, Stefan would fall asleep against his big brother. Damon was his safe place.

Stefan was feeling this way because Damon drank his blood so it was just rational thought that decided he should be the one to fix it. Just let him sleep until Saturday afternoon, give him something hearty to eat and he would be right as rain to deal with their bullshit of taking sides. But there was nothing safe about him _or_ Alaric right now, not with this… malicious jealousy.

The wound in Damon abdomen was healed, skin smooth and unblemished. Stefan splayed his hand over the healed flesh, both covered in blood and with his tired sight, he could barely distinguish between the two. He was light-headed, lethargic; it felt like he was drugged but he knew it was from the blood loss. He just needed a minute to straighten his head, gather his wits and strength and then go to bed after he made sure these two idiots weren't going to kill each other.

Stefan somehow found his way to his feet, Damon following him up like he was attached to a string. "Alright, brother?"

"If you two are done trying to kill each other," Stefan said, his intentions clear. "I'm going to bed." But he didn't move, he was still but it felt like the floor was moving. Damon's finger's were still wrapped around his forearm, he thought that was probably the anchor keeping him upright.

"I gotta say," Damon remark, looking down at his bloody feeding mark on Stefan's wrist, thumb brushing the skin above. "Your blood hit me just right, baby--"

A low warning sound rumbled from Alaric's chest.

"Stop," Stefan uttered in scold, pulling his arm free, foot going back a step to instinctively stabilize himself. "You're picking at scabs that aren't even there yet."

Damon flickered a cool taunting look at Alaric, unable to help himself with one last poke at the angry bear. Stefan's blood just seemed to _thrum_ in his veins like no other straight from the vein blood did. It was like that invincibility he felt when he finally gave himself over to his vampirism and embraced his new existence. It was potent. "Does it do anything for you, Ric?"

It was difficult for Stefan's now human brain to process a vampire's speed, his brain definitely wasn't up to snuff with his lack of blood, but he didn't need to _see_ it to _know_ what was going to happen—what _did_ happen. The control Alaric had regained over his anger after literally ripping out a part of Damon was balanced on a razor-sharp knife-edge and the older vampire severed it. Alaric moved, Damon moved to meet him—and despite being dead on his feet, Stefan's body automatically moved to intercept, to stop the collision.

The thing was, he was human now and beside that he was hardly feeling up-to-scratch. Trying to stop one pissed vampire and one belligerent vampire was like trying to stop a speeding train by stepping onto the tracks. Oh, it would happen, just not fast enough to not run roughshod over him.

There was contact. A sharp snap that made his ears ache. Crashing. Stefan thought he blacked out. He came back foggily, his breathing loud in his ears. Shouting penetrated it. Alaric, Damon. _Stop_ , he tried to say, but only a small whimper was birthed in the back of his throat. His eyes fluttered open. He was still in the hall; he was on the floor. He licked his lips, it no help with his dry mouth. He moved, an involuntary groan of sharp pain leaving him as his attention was drawn to the new pain. It shot up his right arm and into his neck; he instantly stilled and instinctively tensed.

"Stefan?" Stefan felt Alaric's cool palm cup his clammy cheek and he opened his eyes again. "Hey." His thumb stroked Stefan's cheek. "You really scared me."

"It feels like I was hit by a bus," he rasped.

"Yeah, well, that has a tendency to happen when you step into oncoming traffic," Damon uttered sarcastically.

"Shut up, Damon." Alaric growled and Damon shot him a glare.

"Help me sit up," Stefan muttered.

"I don't think that's a good id--" Alaric started in protest but Stefan interrupted.

"I'm done being ignored. You're going to listen to me and you're going to help me sit up." Stefan said firmly. He felt hands on his shoulders and back, carefully lifting him upright. He felt light-headed and woozy and like he wanted to puke, but he closed his eyes, swallowed it back and breathed in through his nose and out his mouth until it mostly subsided. He opened his eyes and looked at his right arm in his lap and instantly understood why it hurt so much. He could almost believe that it was the lighting and his vision playing tricks on him, making his forearm look deformed, but the pain told him the truth. "Shit. My arm's broken."

"Damon wanted to give you blood," Alaric commented, gaze flickering up to the standing vampire opposite him.

"No blood," Stefan growled, glaring up at his brother. "Not this time." Damon was tight-lipped as he stared back and crossed his arms over his chest. "I need to go to the hospital and I _am_ going." He wished he could drive himself but the first issue with that was his car was still sitting parked in the Gilbert driveway, then there was the whole blood loss and possible shock. And he needed a vampire there for compulsion to erase away the existence of the fang punctures. "There should be a sling with the first aid kit in Zach's old room," Stefan told Alaric, "I need to stabilize my arm before I start moving around. Bottle of water and icepack, too." Alaric nodded, gently squeezed his knee and left, heading to the kitchen first. There was silence between them, but even Damon's silence was as difficult to ignore as the man. Stefan carefully looked up at him. "I don't want to hear it," he said shortly.

Damon didn't have to say any words in retort because his ice-blue eyes conveyed it perfectly: _he totally would hear it_. He flashed upstairs. Alaric came back and knelt down beside him. He handed over a gel ice pack wrapped in a tea towel. Stefan carefully laid it on his deformed arm, breath hissing slightly between his teeth at the contact. Alaric cracked open the bottled water for him; Stefan slowly but steadily drank half the bottle before he needed to pause. Alaric didn't have to run up the stairs in search for the sling because when Damon came down the stairs in a fresh shirt, he tossed the found sling at the other vampire. Bottom lip caught between his teeth, Stefan cradled his right arm with his left hand as Alaric helped him with the sling. By the time the strap lay securely across the back of his neck, sweat was beaded on his face and there was a minute shiver going through his body.

"Okay," he uttered, "I'm ready." Best to get this underway before shock decided to set in and cause him more grief.

"Let me do all the work," Alaric murmured. "Ready?" Stefan nodded. Alaric went behind him, arms wrapped around his waist and smoothly lifted to his feet with little jostling. "Alright?" Alaric kept the arm around his waist as Stefan wavered back against him, light-headed. He could feel the shiver with their bodies pressed close.

"Okay," Stefan said. Alaric was a stabilizer as they walked to the car, pausing in the foyer to slip on his boots and to wrap his jacket over his shoulders. He wasn't happy right now with either his boyfriend or his brother, but that could always wait until tomorrow after his arm got set. Alaric automatically headed toward his parked Tahoe in the drive.

"Uh-uh," Damon snapped his fingers and pointed as his Camaro.

"Just let him drive," Stefan mumbled. "Less questions."

Alaric glowered but altered his course. He helped Stefan settle in the front passenger seat and got into the back. He inhaled, his jaw clenched, able to scent an alternate source of Stefan's blood already in the car.

To say the drive to Mystic Falls Hospital was a little awkward was an understatement, but that also wasn't on the brunette's top priority list right now. Stefan just pressed his head back against the rest, eyes closed and tried to breathe through every bump in the road that seemed intent on jostling the car's shocks and sending jolts of pain through his arm and putting a nauseous lump in his throat.

He'd been through worse than a simple broken arm. Just recently a shattered femur came to mind. And he was back to being angry and helpless and frustratingly dependent. Love didn't come without pain, he had learned this a very long time ago at the start of his life, both the metaphorical aspect and the true reality of it. Damon was right, you couldn't expect cotton candy and unicorns without a bit of shit and blood. Stefan preferred it to be his; he could take the shit and give his blood if it meant others would get the cotton candy and unicorns—if he could get them, too. He wanted it so bad! For them, for him. He squeezed his eyes tightly against the sudden prick of tears, breathed deeply, his fingers momentarily flexed against his injured elbow where he cradled his arm in the sling for the extra support. He'd been through worse than a simple broken arm...

Stefan licked his lips and finally opened his eyes when the car stopped moving and the engine shut off.

"You're the only person I know that seems to love coming to the hospital, brother," Damon commented, "When everyone else does everything in their power to avoid it."

"You're the one that keeps putting me here," Stefan said shortly. Alaric opened the passenger door for him from the outside, saving him the pain of having to reach across with his left to do it. He got out of the car himself. "I can walk by myself," he told Alaric when the teacher went to help him. Stefan looked between the vampires on either side of him like a pair of bodyguards; it tore him inside being between them. "Since this is apparently a group visit..." he muttered, focusing on the immediate present, "I've told people you two are friends, so tone down the hostile testosterone, alright?"

"Bad Boy Stefan blatantly lying to innocent bystanders," Damon said.

"Apologies, brother," Stefan deadpanned, "This was back when you both weren't staking each other or tearing out organs because you got territorial."

He picked up the pace and the automatic doors to the E.R. opened before him. The waiting room was almost empty but for a small handful of what appeared to be anxious family members waiting on news. They garnered glances as they passed through to the front desk; thankfully Stefan didn't see anybody he recognized so in turn no one seemed to recognize him; it was just something else he didn't have to worry about.

The nurse behind the desk looked up from her computer monitor, glanced at Stefan and placed the clipboard on the counter in front of Damon and said, "Please fill out this form, sir."

"Of course," Damon pushed it to the left toward Stefan, leaned his forearms against the high counter and caught the nurse's gaze, his pupils dilating as she stared fixed.

Stefan pulled the clipboard over. Alaric offered help with the forms but Stefan declined, picking up the pen tied to the clipboard with an old string in his left hand. He was naturally right-handed, both his and Damon's writing neat and graceful, their father saw to it but Stefan had taught himself to write with his left as well. Starting when he was human, something he perfected over the decades as a vampire—he had time to spare, after all, and it was something to distract and occupy him during Ripper Rehabilitation. Interestingly, he had discovered that while his left wrote as elegant as his right, the tilt and stroke was not the same. They were different enough that someone would mistake them for two different people. But right now, there was none of that flowing grace, even in print. His pen strokes were sharp and short, biting into the paper as he filled the spaces with information and numbers that were unfamiliar to him from a life given to him with no wear. His pain, the shiver in his nerves and his angry exhaustion showing themselves through the worn Bic pen.

"... bed immediately." Damon said.

"Damon," Stefan protested weakly.

"Hold on," he held up his finger to the nurse and looked at his brother, "Do you want to wait around for hours in pain?" Damon challenged.

"No." Stefan answered honestly after a moment.

"And isn't that the whole reason I'm here?" he continued, "To expedite this whole thing, right? Then let me do what I do best. There isn't even anyone else here for you to martyr yourself over." He turned back to the nurse. "Unless someone comes in here with a severed limb or spurting artery, my brother gets the next bed."

"Of course, sir." The nurse said. "I'll see to it." Stefan handed back the clipboard and it went to the top of the pile.

"Good," Damon slapped the counter lightly and smirked over at Alaric. "Remind me, Ric," he said in a deceivingly friendly voice, "Why are you here again?"

Stefan sighed, hand cradling his arm. "Not now."

…

Stefan sat on the gurney, huddled in the jacket draped over his shoulders as the shiver occasionally wracked his body, twinging his shoulder and sending a sharp pain into the side of his neck. He must have done something to his shoulder when he fell. He was closed in on three sides by curtains separating his exam cubicle from the others in the E.R. The small space was crowded with the three men, even with Stefan taking up less space. Alaric stood close, enough to be near but not intimate, not touching him like back at Christmas when Stefan broke his rib from puking so hard, but it was an angry silence he erected now instead of guilt-ridden silence of before. Damon was touching and fiddling the equipment that overcrowded the single wall afforded to the cubicle at the head of the bed. Stefan didn't scold him to cut it out because at least he wasn't tormenting Alaric at the moment, but he knew his brother would grow bored with it soon enough.

Stefan detected to subtle shift in the vampires' demeanours a moment before the curtain before his bed was pulled aside by a young, brunette woman Jenna's age, her long hair tied up in a pony wearing blur scrubs beneath her white lab coat. Around her neck was a stethoscope and in her hands Stefan’s chart. Her keen brown gaze flickered over both Damon and Alaric in fast regard before they settled on Stefan with a friendly smile.

"You must be Stefan, then. You can call me Meredith, I'm going to be your doctor tonight. How are you feeling?"

"Okay," Stefan said.

"Your admittance form says you broke your arm, but you also noted down some blood loss. Your break isn't an open fracture so can you tell me--"

"I can answer that, doc." Damon stepped around Alaric and in front of her. He caught her gaze and flexed his pupils. "You see, there's a wound on his left wrist. It's not very remarkable, but you're gonna treat it, note it as responsible for any blood loss and then move on.

Meredith nodded. "Just a puncture that occurred during the incident that broke his arm. Don't worry, I'll make sureit gets looked at."

Damon nodded in satisfaction and stepped back. Meredith took the blood pressure cuff from the back wall and with a loud tear of Velcro wrapped it around Stefan's left bicep. He said quietly aside to Alaric so only the vampire would hear, "If I keep this up, at this rate I'm gonna have to feed again." The implication was obvious.

"Why don't you go suck on a blood bag?" Alaric hissed and Damon chuckled under his breath.

To the human eye, Alaric may look relaxed and casual as he stood with his arms crossed lightly over his chest, to the vampire senses it was the complete opposite. His arms were corded with taut muscle, the rage he was feeling made his cool skin feel hot beneath his clothes. He was hard-pressed to keep a lid on it. If Damon wasn’t careful Alaric was gonna snap, see red and go into a blind rage and this time it wouldn't be Damon's liver he ripped out, but the arrogant bastard's heart. It wouldn't matter that they were in the middle of a busy hospital E.R. or that Stefan was right there already because of them or that he loved the brunette. All that would matter to the dirty-blond in the moment was finally shutting Damon up, not having to compete for Stefan's love and finally having Stefan to himself.

"Alright, your blood pressure is a little low." Meredith said, hanging the cuff back up as she squeezed passed the vampires. "I already ordered a saline drip because of the blood loss, it'll help replenish the fluids lost and stop you from going into shock. Actually," she looked at the two men. "If you two could wait in the waiting room, I'll come and get you after my initial exam. I'm sure you're both worried about Stefan, but it's a little cramped in here. I promise he's in good hands."

"Go," Stefan said when both Damon and Alaric looked about to compel their stay. "I'm fine. There isn't room for 4 of us and only 2 are needed."

Meredith watched them go and waited until they disappeared around the corner out of the E.R. before she stepped back into the cubicle, tugged the curtain closed and stepped close. "Are you okay?" she questioned him; quiet, urgent.

Stefan looked at her in confusion and concern. "What--?" he watched her dumbly for a moment as she took his left arm, pushed up his sleeve and revealed the feeding wound on the inside of his wrist.

"I knew it," Meredith muttered to herself. "Stefan, look at me." She flashed a penlight in his eyes, leaving him squinting and seeing spots. "Are they holding you against your will? You can tell me, I can help you." She said, "Have they been compelling you?"

"What?" Stefan jerked his arm free, barely feeling the sharp pain through his arm into his neck for the pure panic swelling in his chest. Vampires, she knew about vampires! She had resisted Damon's compulsion, she must be on vervain. He didn't understand. Oh, god. Stefan finally got a look at the breast of her lab coat, previously obscured by her stethoscope— **Dr** **Meredith Fell**. The Fell's were a Founding Family of Mystic Falls. The Fell's were part of the secret Town Council that hunted vampires! But even more than that, Stefan finally recognized her. This was Jenna's friend-from-the-hospital- _Meredith_ who told her the gossip of Damon and Alaric being a couple. She was at John's funeral to support Jenna but Stefan never actually met or talked to her, he hadn't even known her last name. Damon must not have recognized her either which was a relief in disguise.

"Easy, Stefan. Breathe." Meredith tried to calm and put him at ease. "I'm not going to hurt you. I can help you, I promise. I can--"

If Stefan didn't have the emotional wherewithal to deal with Alaric and Damon's sudden possessive-aggressive disposition, this was a curveball he was facing without a bat. He didn't have much options before him, deny or acknowledge. Well, it wasn't like she actually said the word ' **vampire** '... and he could also use the injured card. Deny, deny, deny it was.

"No," he uttered faintly. He swallowed. "No," he said more firmly, confusion and pain and a bit of fear tingeing his voice, all of which in some form was true. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not being held against my will, Damon is my brother. What do you mean by compelling?" he cradled his injured arm.

Whatever the doctor had been expecting, it wasn't that. Meredith straightened and regarded him for a moment. "Alright, Stefan." Her demeanour softened. "I'm sorry if I scared you. Why don't we clean up your wrist and then I can examine your arm, would that be okay?"

She didn't move, waited until he gave her a small, wary nod of acceptance. Various things made him do it. To keep an eye on her, he really wanted his arm set, he didn't want Damon to kill her because he would if he found out she was on the Council and _knew_ his little secret of vampirism to boot, and he really didn't want to see her dead. He either needed to convince her he was oblivious and her assumption of Damon (and Ric) was wrong, or he needed to turn her into a ally.

The curtain was suddenly pulled back, causing both to jump, Stefan grimacing.

"Didn't mean to startle you," the nurse apologized. "I just brought the bag you ordered, Dr Fell, and tell you that he's on the patient list for an x-ray."

"Thank you, Beth." Meredith took the saline bag and closed the curtain again. She went around the other side of the bed and hung the bag from the IV pole at the head. "I want to start you on these fluids first, you're gonna have to take off your sweater."

"Okay," he agreed.

She took his jacket off his shoulders from behind and laid it at the foot of the gurney as she came around to face Stefan. "We'll go slow and easy, I'll help."

He gave a slight nod. She held the dried, bloody cuff of his left sleeve and he extracted his arm. She pulled the hem up on the left side to his shoulder, freeing his arm to cradle his broken one as she leaned in close, reaching around behind to loosen the sling strap around his neck. She lifted the strap and neck hole off over his head. She only stilled for a moment as her gaze was drawn to his neck; the large skin-coloured Band-Aid that hid Damon mark and below that, a few days old, the scabbed-over fang bite of Alaric and then continued on with his sweater. What was it they said about three's? He shivered now that he was more exposes to the air than not, but her hands were warm on his chilled skin. He winced as the strap got caught on his shoulder.

"Sorry. Your arm?"

"Shoulder."

"I'll take a look at it," she said. "Now the hard part." She grabbed both pillows from the head of the gurney and put them half in his lap and half at his side

"Mm." Stefan pursed his lips as she finally pulled the sweater and sling free, setting them aside with his jacket. He hissed a little as he finally got a good look at his arm laying stark on the white pillow, the bright overhead lights leaving out no detail. The deformity of his forearm had not been a trick of the light. A dark bruise that had not been there before had formed largely on the outside of his arm.

"It usually looks worse than it really is. No bone has come through the skin, which is a good thing." Meredith gently laid a cold gel pack over his arm. "This will help with any pain and swelling until I can look at it. I unfortunately can't give you anything for the pain until after my exam."

"It's okay," Stefan said. Broken bones were starting to seem like a common occurrence lately, but at least some luck was on his side that they weren't compound fractures.

She got him half into the gown before quickly and expertly getting him hooked up to the IV, the needle taped in halfway up his left forearm because the trauma to his wrist. Meredith pulled up the stool, snapped on a pair of sterile latex gloves and cleaned the feeding wound on his wrist before slapping on a Band-Aid similar to the one on his neck. "Alright," she shifted the stool over to his right. "What's your pain level right now?"

"Two,"

She nodded and started her initial examination of his arm. As she did she started to talk, voice low so it wouldn't travel between cubicles and he was forced to focus through the awakening pain in his nerves as she palpated his tender skin in order to hear her, drawing him away from the pain like she had hoped.

"You're a Salvatore, Stefan, and I'm a Fell. We're both from a Founding Family, but more than that we know Mystic Falls houses a secret Town Council made up through the generations by our ancestors who kill vampires and protect this town." There it was, finally, the v-word. "I know your brother Damon is a member and I know that you know vampires exist because I've already seen 2 feeding marks on you, and I can bet my career the same thing lays under that Band-Aid on your neck. I also know that Damon is a vampire because he just tried to compel me, but I'm on vervain like all the other Council members."

She gave him a moments reprieve as she straightened in the stool and Stefan's mind was already racing, trying to come up with options and only ever settling on two. Deny, deny, deny or convert her to his side. There was no third option, she needed to conform to one because he refused to let her die a senseless death.

"Can you move your fingers for me?" Stefan carefully complied. "That's really good. Almost done, sweetie." Meredith took her stethoscope from around her neck and put it in her ears to check the pulse in his arm. "Pulse sound strong, there doesn't appear to be any pinched or severed blood vessels. Alright," she looped it back around her neck. "Lets get you into a splint to help stabilize your arm and I can check your shoulder and give you a shot for the pain." Stefan nodded watching her face instead of his arm. "My participation in the Town Council only pertains to a discrepancy with the hospital blood supply and records—I'm the one that informs the Council of possible vampire _persona non grata_. Or god forbid, I'm the one they page when someone comes in from an 'animal attack'." She finished with the Velcro straps on the splint; Stefan released a slow breath from between his pursed lips, sweat beaded on his upper lip from the handling of his broken limb. "You doing okay, Stefan? Do you need a minute?"

"I'm okay," he didn't understand why she was telling him this. What was she hoping to accomplish?

Meredith rose from the stool and examined his shoulder. "It appears wrenched," she concluded. "A pinched nerve in your neck. I can give you a muscle relaxant for your shoulder and that shot for your arm now." He didn't even feel the pinch of the needle. She helped him finish with the gown and put the sling back on as it started to kick in. "My business isn't vampires, it's saving people. I take my Hippocratic oath very seriously, Stefan, by whatever means I'm able—and sometimes that means using vampire blood."

"What?!" he was floored by what she had just confessed to him and any pretence of denial flew out the proverbial door. "You can't just give people vampire blood, Meredith. What if something happened and they died? They would go into transition and turn because they wouldn't understand what was happening and be overcome with the urge to drink blood..." _Crap._

She gave him a small smile. "I give enough to heal and only on the most severe cases where modern medicine wouldn't have been able to save the patient." She assured. "They stay in the hospital for 24 hour observation before they're released, by then the blood is out of their system. It's low risk. It's been working the past few years without a problem."

"Just because there hasn't been an issue _yet_ ," Stefan heeded her.

"Here, you should lay back while you wait." She raised the head of the gurney so it was at a comfortable reclining angle. Stefan had no choice but follow her instructions and soon found himself under the blanket with a pillow under his elbow in support. "I promise I don't do it frequently. It's hard to get a hold of vampire blood and it holds a short shelf life outside the body."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Stefan finally asked her.

"I'm telling you because I want you to know that you can trust me, Stefan. I'm not here to hurt you, I want to help you. If you're being abused or they're using you for your blood..."

"It's not like that," Stefan said firmly. "If it were I wouldn't be in the hospital right now. Vampire blood, remember?" she already straight-up told him that she knew Damon was a vampire, and just said 'they' meaning she knew about Alaric too. If she was anything worth her salt then she would have noticed the size and shape difference from the bite in his wrist to the one on his crook. It was all about damage control now. "But I don't drink it."

"And your blood?" she questioned.

"Given _willingly_ ," he told her earnestly, gaze not leaving hers.

She was quiet for a moment, checking his IV. "If they aren't hurting anyone, if they aren't hurting _you_... then I see no reason why the Council needs to be made aware of their existence." Meredith finally said quietly.

Stefan relaxed back with relief, he couldn't detect any deception in her eyes. "I'm putting a lot of trust in you, Meredith. You have nothing to lose but I have everything."

"You can trust me, Stefan." Meredith promised. "I'm gonna give you my card, it has my cell number on the back. If you get into trouble, if its something I can help with, call me. If you wanna get out, I can help you, call me. I mean it, Stefan. You call me and I will help you in anyway that I can."

Stefan silently took it. "I think it's better if this stays between the two of us."

"I agree." She sighed quietly. "When it's time for your x-ray an orderly with a wheelchair. Rest, I'll get your brother."

Stefan watched her leave, a gap swishing in the curtain. He looked at her card for a minute before tucking it into his jeans pocket under the blanket. He wanted out right now, at least temporarily—hopefully temporarily—but he had every intention of calling someone else, he just needed his cell phone he wished he'd had the forethought to grab off Damon's dash when he had the chance.

He laid his head back against the pillow with a tired sigh. He only had a few minutes to himself before he once again had a vampire on either side of him, the curtain closed around them like a wall.

"You doing okay?" Alaric stroked his cheek but Stefan didn't turn into the touch like he might have otherwise.

"Okay. Meredith gave me something for the pain while I wait for my x-ray."

"Yeah, the hot doctor chick told us." Damon remarked, arms folded over his chest. "I just have one question, brother."

"What?" Stefan wondered wearily.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Damon raged in a quiet hiss that might as yell have been a scream for all the venom in it.

Stefan looked at his brother with open-mouthed indignation. "Excuse me, what did you just say?"

"Jumping in between two vampires mid-brawl, have you lost your mind?!" Damon leaned over him.

Stefan jaw shut with a click as he felt such a boiling anger swell in his like a tidal wave, and he reared up with it, forcing his brother back. "You put me there yourselves!" he snapped with malice, voice hard and low.

Damon was silent as he watched his brother, expression unreadable even as his mind was scrambling. He was losing his fucking mind, he had to be. His brain was all screwed up from his Power siphon because he could have sworn that for a **third** time Stefan's eyes had turned black as he jerked upright. It made him feel unnerved and that just wasn't something that happened to the vampire version of him.

Before things could get anymore heated and loud, the curtain was pulled back by an orderly with a wheelchair. "Mr Salvatore, I'm here to take you down to X-Ray." Stefan flipped the blanket back and slid off the gurney, left hand supporting his right in reflex. The orderly took the IV bag from the pole at the head of the gurney and attached it to the pole on the wheelchair. "I should have him back with you in about 20 minutes, gentlemen." And he wheeled Stefan out of the E.R. The nameless orderly was right, he was done getting the x-ray in under 20 and was wheeled to a private exam room instead of his cubicle in the E.R., Damon and Alaric already waiting there, Stefan's jacket and sweater folded over the dirty-blond's arm. "Dr Fell will be with you shortly." The orderly closed the door behind.

"Dr _Fell_?" Damon muttered. " _Fell_ as in the _Founding Family Fell_?"

Stefan flipped up the foot supports with his feet and stood with a grunt. "Where are you going?" Alaric took an automatic step forward ready to catch.

"Just the exam table, I'm fine." Stefan took the IV bag from the pole with him and hung it on the one at the end of the table. He used the present footstool and sat on the table with a sigh. "Do you recognize her from the Council?" he questioned Damon pointedly.

"No."

"There you go." He resisted the urge to throw up his hand.

"Why the hell do I feel like I've seen her before?"

"Actually," Alaric said. "I've seen her, too. She was at John's funeral, she's one of Jenna's friends."

"Still..."

"You compelled her, didn't you?" Stefan reminded, hoping he could convince his brother. "And just because she's a Fell, doesn't mean she automatically knows about vampires and the secret Town Council. Logan Fell didn't know anything about vampires."

"Ah," a sneer twitched Damon's lip. "I remember that arrogant bastard. Wish I could have killed him myself."

"You're welcome," Alaric smirked.

"Listen," Stefan said seriously. "You two don't need to be here for this. In fact..." he licked his lips and looked between the two. "I want you two to go."

"What are you talking about, Stefan?" Alaric questioned.

"He's trying to give us the polite boot." Damon quipped. "Good luck 'cause you're underage, Stefan, and I'm your legal guardian."

"I don't need your signature, Damon. When I'm released, I just need someone to drive me. I just need my cell phone and you two can go—in opposite directions of each other." Stefan added. "We all just not need to be near each other right now."

"And what if your arm needs surgery?" Damon challenged cockily.

"It doesn't," Stefan responded levelly.

"How do you know?" Alaric said.

"I went to medical school in the 70’s. It’s a closed fracture and juding by the placement of the bruising and shape of the deformity, just the break in the ulna is displaced--"

"Oh, you're so fucking full of yourself, Stefan!" Damon scoffed.

Stefan gave a sharp, bitter bark of laughter. "No, that's the two of you. Attacking each other in some stupid endeavour to pull dominance over the other and win some kind of claim and right over me. Well, I'll tell you one thing—fuck the both of you. I was a plaything to Katherine, a tool to John. I'm not going to be some chew toy for the both of you to brutalize each other over, I'm not going to stand for it." Tears burned behind his eyes. "Not with you two."

"Stefan," Alaric uttered, stepping forward. He put his clothes down on the exam table next to Stefan and gently cradled the brunettes face in his palms, thumbs stroking the bruised skin under his tired and pained gaze. "I'm sorry--"

"Stop," Stefan croaked. He leaned his face back and pushed Alaric's hands away, ignoring the hurt in his blue gaze the gesture ignited. "You can say you're sorry but it won't mean anything when you go after Damon again as soon as he says the next insensitive remark that touches a nerve."

Alaric's fingers clenched tightly into fists at his sides. "Even now you're defending him?"

"I'm not," Stefan sighed in frustration. "I'm not defending Damon. I'm not picking him over you. I'm not going home to the Boarding House with Damon, and I'm not gonna abscond to your apartment, Ric." He glanced at Damon. "I want _both_ of you to leave, I'm not asking you, I'm telling you."

Before either vampire could respond, the room door opened and Meredith stepped it, a large envelope under her arm. She sensed the charged atmosphere, eyes going over both vampires warily before settling on Stefan. "Everything alright in here?"

"Yes," Stefan said.

"Okay," Meredith closed the door behind her and walked over to the light board by the exam table on the wall. "I have your x-rays." She pulled a couple of large film sheets from the envelope and clipped them onto the board, turning it on. "My initial findings after examining your arm were correct. You've fracture both your radius and ulna in your forearm, Stefan. Your ulna has a displaced oblique fracture angled across the bone. The breaks in the shaft are pointing inward. Your radius has a clean transverse fracture straight across the bone." She looked at them. "It looks messy but the bones can easily be reduced back into alignment—no surgery required." She promised.

Stefan looked over at Damon and Alaric. "I told you I didn't need surgery."

"That's right. I'll give you a shot of morphine for the pain and we can get started." Meredith pulled a syringe from her coat pocket and injected the morphine into the port in his IV line. She pulled a flat metal extension with light cushioning from the exam table for his arm. She helped him out of his sling and handed it, and the jacket and sweater on the table over to Alaric and had Stefan lay back with his splint arm stretch over the extension.

Stefan fixed his drugged gaze on the white tiled ceiling overhead. Velcro tore and she removed the splint, gently laying the deformed limb on the cushioned extension. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves and started the reduction. Damon didn't look away; Alaric did, his gaze fixed on the side of Stefan's face, focused in on his heat beat, his breathing. Stefan could still feel it, like a pressure, the pain submerged.

The tone of the white tile turned into an off-white, yellowish hue of age and suddenly he was looking _down_ at it instead of up. His small sneakered feet kicked lightly, his heels banging against the metal side of the exam table. His boney knees, scraped and scabbed were exposed in his shorts, that at least was a familiar sight if nothing else.

"That was awful brave of you, sport, but what were you thinking?"

He looked up. The doctor was a middle-aged man with a slight gut and dark hair. He gave a one shouldered shrug. "I'm her big brother, sir. She was scared. We're definitely getting a new babysitter."

The doctor carefully took his left forearm and slid a stockinet over his arm, a hole cut for his thumb. "Have you thought about what colour you want your cast to be, Tom?"

"Blue. I like blue."

"Red," Stefan muttered albeit a bit groggily.

"What was that, Stefan?" Meredith wondered, gently laying his arm back on the extension, from the small, portable x-ray machine connected to the computer in the exam room to confirm the success of the reduction.

Stefan turned his gaze from the ceiling and his head to look at her. "Can I have a red cast," he said, "Not blue?"

"Of course," she gave him a small smile. "Whatever colour you want."

"Good," Stefan mumbled. "He likes blue, I don't want blue."

"And we have High Stefan in the house, ladies and gentlemen." Damon announced.

Stefan turned his head to the other side, gaze finding his brother. "Why are you still here? I told you to leave, I don't want you here." His gaze went to Alaric. "Either of you."

Alaric swallowed quietly. "Stefan," he uttered sadly.

"I love you," slipped from Stefan without thought, the filter in his head doped with morphine. Meredith's head came up from the computer screen at the declaration.

"You gotta be kidding me," Damon rolled his eyes. "This one's all on you, Teacher." He threw a had toward Meredith. "Brother, have fun with the harem. Ta-ta for now." Damon made his exit.

"Dr Fell," Alaric said in a friendly tone as he rounded the exam table.

"Yes?" Meredith looked up at him cautiously.

He caught her gaze and focused, his pupils flexed. "Please forget you heard Stefan say that."

"Okay."

He nodded with relief and straightened. "Stefan--"

"Please leave, Ric. And stay away from Damon." Stefan told him.

"Will you at least call so I know--"

"I'm 162 years old, I think I can manage without you and Damon holding onto my leash!" he protested.

Alaric looked back at Meredith and compelled her again. "Pleased forget that, too. He's high on drugs and just speaking nonsense."

"Trust me, I've heard it all. It's all just gibberish that he likely won't remember in the morning." Meredith said, her expression schooled.

"Stefan, I don't think it's a good idea to be left alone like this." Alaric cautioned.

"Please leave so I can stop talking and sounding like an idiot," Stefan scrunched his eyes.

Alaric sighed quietly, and nodded in defeat. He left Stefan's jacket and sweater on the chair against the wall by the door. "I put your cell phone in your jacket pocket." He closed the exam room door softly behind him after one last look at his boyfriend.

Stefan let out an explosive breath and opened his eyes to find Meredith watching him carefully. He gulped in apprehension because he remembered that she couldn't be compelled.

"Stefan," she wondered, "Who likes blue?"

"Me," Stefan said, "But I don't want blue, I want red. He likes blue and I want red."

She chuckled quickly at his nonsensical babbling, the tension in her shoulders relaxing. "You a very sensitive system, don't you, Stefan?" Meredith turned from him and to the small sink area. She filled it with tepid water and gathered various rolls from the cupboard. He watched her as she slipped the stockinet onto his right arm. She raised his arm so it was bent at the elbow and straight in the air and began to wrap it with cotton wool. His gaze followed it round and round, first the cotton, then wet plaster of Paris bandage, he found it almost dizzying and was forced to look away. Meredith moulded the plaster against his arm at three points to support the fracture and finally put on the final layer of red dyed plaster of Paris bandage. "There you go." She laid his casted arm comfortably across his stomach. She checked the progress of his IV bag. "Just rest here, Stefan, I want you to finish off the fluids before I release you."

"That seems fair."

Meredith laid a light blanket over him and fished his cell phone from his jacket pocket, wrapping his left hand fingers securely around it before she left. "I'll be back to check on you in half-an-hour."

Stefan didn't immediate call, instead his fingers stayed curled around his cell at his side. He blinked slowly up at the white tiled ceiling as it threatened to turn off-white and yellowish with age. He didn't want to dream or have memories of _him_ again. "Right arm. Red cast. Older brother," he muttered to himself in assurance and reminder. "Stefan, I'm just High Stefan right now."

"Stefan, you doing alright in here, sweetie?" Meredith returned.

"Has it already been half-an-hour?" Stefan wondered, he could have sworn she just left a minute ago.

"45, actually. I had to check on some of my other patients."

"Oh."

She approached the exam table. "Looks like the bag is done." She pressed a cotton ball to the needle site as she pulled it out. She patiently kept pressure on it for a minute before taping it in place. "Think you can sit up for me?" she helped his get there, feeling a bit dizzy.

"I don't think I'm a big fan of morphine," he confessed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Meredith handed him a paper cup of water. "It's great for the pain but does mess with your head," she agreed. When he was finished with the water, she strapped on the blood pressure cuff and gave him the once over. "Blood pressure and vitals looks good, Stefan. I'm confident in releasing you, but you will need to come back in for a check-up in about a week."

...

Stefan sat in a wheelchair parked off to the side of the automatic doors to the emergency department outside under the overhead cover, it brightly lit. He breathed in the cool night air, shivering slightly. His cast fit under his sweater sleeve just shy of snug and Stefan had come to realize the reason why was because this was one of Alaric's sweaters, not an old Duke one, thankfully, that would have caused questions. He found both comfort and sadness in it; it smelled like laundry soap but if he buried his nose in the material he'd swear he could smell Alaric. His arm was back in the sling over that and finally his jacket. His left arm was in the sleeve, but it was only draped over his right. In his pocket was a bottle of muscle relaxant and mild pain killers for his arm; he was going to take the pain meds sparingly. One doppelganger trip on morphine was enough for him, he didn't want to experience more drug induced ones. On one knee his blank-screen cell phone sat balanced, still undialled, wedged between his thighs was the opened, bright orange candy box of Reece's Pieces that he'd gotten from the vending machine in the waiting room. He dug a yellow shelled chocolate out and tossed it into his mouth.

He was waffling with his decision to call Bonnie and Elena. If he knew them like he did, after they all returned from Shadowland Vortex and parted ways, the doppelganger and witch didn't part ways, but stuck together for the abruptness of Stefan's sudden departure and the lack of communication since. He didn't want them to worry about him, but when he'd finally gotten a look at a clock when Meredith rolled him out here, it was 4 in the morning. He could just call a cab, get a motel room for the night...

He picked up his cell from his knee and turned it on. Damon must have turned it off when he'd fallen asleep on the drive back to Mystic Falls from Lynchburg. His phone blew up with chimes and vibrations as his screen filled with text message and voicemail notifications. His thumb tapped and dragged across the screen, he put it to his ear.

"Oh, thank god. Stefan?" the line connected before even the second ring could start. "Are you okay? Bonnie said Damon grabbed you and you haven't been answering our calls and texts. I was--"

"Elena, Elena!" he interrupted her. "I'm... okay." He said tiredly, sighing quietly. "I'm sorry it's so late and I will explain everything later but... could you come pick me up?"

"I don't understand," Elena confessed. "I thought you were Damon? Are you in trouble, Stefan?"

Somehow he managed to hold back the bark of empty laughter at the question. "I wa--"

"Where are you, Stefan?" a new voice came over the line.

"Bonnie?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"She's sleeping over," Elena explained, they must have put it on speaker phone. "We were worried about you and thought it would be better if we stuck close."

"Where are you, Stefan?" Bonnie repeated.

Stefan was quiet for a moment. "Mystic Falls Hospital."

"What?!" they both exclaimed.

"Are you okay?" "What happened?" "What did Damon do!" was all clamoured across the line.

"It's just a broken arm." Stefan assured them. "It's already been set and put in a cast. I've been released and just need someone to pick me up."

"We're coming," Elena said and there was crackling over the line. "What happened, Stefan?

"Where the hell is Damon?" Bonnie demanded angrily. "And Alaric for that matter? I called him earlier."

"That's what started this whole mess," it was a thought in his head but accidentally found exit through his mouth. He was exhausted and still feeling the morphine shot and while that was good for his arm, his natural filter was feeling a little too honest.

"What?" Bonnie asked faintly. "Stefan--"

"I'm okay, Bonnie." he quickly assured her, cursing himself. "Can you please come get me? I know it's a lot to ask, but I can't go back to the Boarding House and it's not a good idea to stay over at Ric's right now... could I crash at your place, just for tonight?"

"Of course, Stef," Elena said instantly as car doors slammed. "You can always stay here."

"My dad's home and would never let a boy sleep over, especially one that he'd never met before." Bonnie said.

"Thank you."

"We're 10 minutes away."

"I'll be waiting outside of emerge." Stefan's phone automatically disconnected when Elena's phone hung up.

He lowered his arm and put his phone in his left jacket pocket with the pill bottles. He kicked up the chair foot paddles and rested his feet on the ground as he finished his Reece's Pieces.

Stefan watched an ambulance race by, lights flashing passed to the ambulance bay before SUV lights flashed in his eyes. Elena pulled alongside the curb of the walk, both driver and passenger doors opened as the teenagers jumped out in their pyjamas and jackets.

"Stefan!"

Stefan was already pushing himself up out of the wheelchair as they raced over. "Careful," Elena said worriedly. "What are you doing?"

"I'm okay," he said. "The wheelchair's just policy."

Elena's hand reached out but hesitated to touch unsure of where was safe to touch. He stepped forward into her hand, making sure to angle the left side of his chest toward her. "See, I'm not going to break if you touch me," he said lightly. "It's just my right arm." He reached out with his left, his hand brushing down Bonnie jacket clad arm before taking hold of her hand. He swung it lightly, "See?"

Bonnie stilled his arm, her other hand clasping over his. "You're not allowed to joke right now."

"I don't want you guys to be worried."

"The last time you were in a hospital..." Elena gave her head a shake, unable to suppress the slight shudder as she remembered Stefan cutting the stitches out of the incision on his thigh. Her fingers gripped the material of his jacket.

"I'm sorry I scared you when I did that, but I promise there were no dramatic acts of surrender and retribution this time around." He assured them.

"It's cold and late," Bonnie finally declared. "Let's get back, you need to rest. We can talk tomorrow." She squeezed Stefan's hand between her own before releasing it. "Get him into the car, Elena, I'll leave the wheelchair inside."

Elena nodded and hugged his arm, slowly walking him the short distance to the idling SUV as Bonnie disappeared through the automatic doors to the emergency department. He let her and resist the urge to insist that he was fine, he could walk it on his own, but Elena and Bonnie weren't Damon and Alaric. They made his sit in front and Bonnie sat in the back on the drive to the Gilbert house through the silent residential streets.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Stefan asked. "Jenna--"

"Jenna knows," Elena assured. "We woke her up when you called."

His Porche Coupe was still parked in the driveway. Elena parked the SUV alongside it in the driveway. Stefan's offers to crash on the couch fell on deaf ear as he was escorted quietly up the stairs through the darkened house and into Elena's bedroom, the door clicking softly closed behind and the bedroom light flicked on.

Elena went through the bathroom, turning on the light. She crossed it to Jeremy's room. Using the light from the cracked bathroom door, she went to her brother's tall dresser.

"Elena?" Jeremy muttered, still mostly asleep.

"Shh," Elena hushed him. "Go back to sleep, I just need to borrow a pair of sweats."

"'Kay," he mumbled and buried his face back into his pillow.

She closed the drawer, folded pants in hand and closed the bathroom door behind her to Jeremy's room. She left the sweats on the counter by the sink and returned to her room. "I left a pair of sweats on the sink counter for you to wear."

"Thanks, Elena." Bonnie already helped him out of his jacket. Stefan shut the bathroom door behind him. He needed to pee like a race horse. He lifted the lid a seat to the toilet. It took him a minute to managed his belt with one hand before he finally managed to unzip. When he was finished, he flushed, put the seat back down and simply pushed his jeans the rest of the way off. He washed his hands, put on Jeremy's borrowed sweats and rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash. When he returned to the bedroom, the girls had just finished making a bed of blankets on a space of floor.

"What are you doing?" Bonnie questioned.

Stefan paused, gesturing at the blankets. "I--"

"No, Stefan." Elena straightened the comforter on her bed and turned back the edge. "You're injured, you're sleeping in the bed." She help up a finger, "No arguments."

Stefan sighed and got into bed like a scolded child. He sat on the edge and took off the sling before laying back, pulling the covers with him. He found a pillow and tucked it under his elbow.

"Don't you want to take these before you go to sleep?" Bonnie wondered, holding up his pill bottles.

"No, I'm still pretty high on morphine." He denied. It was starting to thin in his blood stream and he knew by morning he was going to feel like shit—just put it down to experience, but the result would still be the same if he took them. At least this way he had a clearer head. "Goodnight," he said. "And thank you, sorry for waking you up."

"Night." "Goodnight," they murmured. Bonnie got settled in the blanket pile first and Elena turned out the light, easily finding her way to Bonnie in the dark.

Stefan relaxed back, and allowed his eyes to close.

Things were supposed to have gotten better.

He should have stayed in his own fucking bed, suffered a few nightmares. Instead, he drove Damon to desperate hunger, Alaric to despairing anger, and himself to this point because he was being selfish again. Thoughtless. He knew how sleeping with Damon made Alaric feel, did he really think a few words could really solve it? This had just driven Alaric over the edge. If Stefan hadn't gotten himself injured—again—where would they really be right now?

He was breaking them, he was fucking breaking them all.

**_~ T V D ~_ **

When Stefan awoke, it was in pain, groggy and confused, and covered in sweat. His nerves were on fire, a deep hot throb beat endlessly in his arm, his fingers felt thick, his shoulder felt stiff and like someone had tried to pull it out of its socket, there was a sharp pain in his neck jabbing an ice pick into his migraine. Somehow he managed to wrangle his sweater off and he quickly discovered the source of the pain; his right arm was a deep red, his skin covered thickly with congealed blood, it was like a thick mass on his forearm. His head was foggy, he couldn't remember what happened. His left hand shook as he reached out to touch it, only to startle as gentle hands cupped his face and turned it away.

"Stefan, Stefan. You're okay, you're alright. You're in my room." She soothingly stroked his sweaty face.

He instinctively started to jerk away before he realized it was Elena and not Katherine who had kidnapped him. He relaxed slightly. "Elena? I--"

"Here, take these. It'll help with the pain." His muddled green gaze bounced from Elena to Bonnie who was holding out a glass of water to him in one hand and two white tablets in the palm of her other.

"OK." Stefan didn't even think about. His fingers were still shaking as he picked up the tablets and put them on his tongue before taking the glass and gulping it thirstily, washing them down. Bonnie took the empty glass and he laid back heavily on the bed with a groan. "What happened?"

Elena sat on the edge of her bed, taking his left hand in hers. "You broke your arm last night, don't you remember?" she shared a concerned look with Bonnie.

He squeezed his eyes closed. "Right." He uttered. He broke his arm, the red wasn't blood, it was the cast. Not blue. He was broken, not bloody. "I remember now."

Bonnie went and opened the bedroom window a crack, letting in some fresh air and the early morning breeze. She returned to stand by Elena. "Can you tell us what happened, Stefan?"

"Damon..." Stefan started. "Something was wrong."

"Wrong with Damon?" Bonnie asked, her mind instantly going back to their conversation in the kitchen over a week ago about the dream manipulation.

Stefan nodded his head against the pillow. "I drained all of his Power and he was hungry but no matter how much blood he drank—from blood bags, people... the hunger didn't dissipate so, so--"

"He came to you," Bonnie concluded. "Is that where this came from?" she leaned forward and her fingertips brushed the skin on the side of his wrist at the edge of the Band-Aid. "He fed from you."

"Yeah, but not from there—here." He pulled his hand from Elena’s and reached up to touch the skin toned Band-Aid on the left side of his neck.

"What about this?" Elena questioned quietly.

His eyes cracked open as he felt fingers touch his collarbone under the crook of his neck. "Ric, but that was days ago." He dismissed the concern.

"Then what happened?" Bonnie prompted after a moment. "Did drinking your blood help?"

"We weren't sure. It was a wait-and-see kind of situation. We got home and..."

"Alaric came." Bonnie whispered guiltily.

He looked up at her and nodded. "He saw Damon's feeding mark and got upset. I tried to explain, but he was too angry to listen and Damon wouldn't stop taunting him. Alaric snapped and they started to fight, fighting over me—over who had claim to drink my blood." Both girls shared looks of disgust and anger. "They were gonna fucking kill each other! Ric tried to stake Damon, Damon _did_ stake Ric, and then Ric, he..." Stefan swallowed against the nauseas lump in his throat. "He ripped Damon's liver out and it was like I was watching all the terrible hits of the past in one go. Damon was on the floor and he wasn't healing and I didn't even think, I just did and I fed him more of my blood right there and then." He ran fingers through his already mussed hair and just nodded when he dropped his hand back down and Elena touched his wrist. "And Ric thought that meant I chose Damon over him and it would have been fine, it would have," he repeated, unsure of who he was trying to convince at this point. "But Damon..."

"Damon couldn't help himself," Bonnie muttered.

Stefan blew out a breath through pursed lips. "They went after each other again and I got into the middle." The pain meds and muscle relaxant’s were starting to kick in, dulling the pain, which was a plus, but just added a stifling blanket over the fog that'd he'd managed to wade through some in his mind. "I screwed up."

"No, Stefan." Bonnie's hands clenched into fists. "They did—big time."

"It was my fault," he muttered in denial, his eyes lidded and blinks dragging. "I wasn't thinking. I should have been thing think. I knew... I need to go. I need to--"

"No, Stefan. You're not going anywhere." Elena said firmly and was easily able to push him back to the few inches he'd managed to rise and keep him there with a hand on his chest. "You're staying right where you are."

"She's right," Bonnie said, determination and anger set in her features. "You need to rest." She turned and started for the door. "Watch him, Elena."

"Where are you going?" Elena twisted toward her in confusion and worry.

"I shouldn't be more than 2 hours." Was the vague response, though Elena already had a great suspicion on her destination. "Don't worry, I can take care of myself." Bonnie told her, pausing with her hand on the doorknob. "And I'm borrowing your SUV."

And Stefan let go of what little fight kept him braced weakly against Elena's hand, slumping back into the bed. He didn't want to fight or face, he wanted to hide and wallow so he let the drugs cloud and take away the pain and the worry and went back to darkness.

[...tbc..]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, wave hello to Meredith Fell because I may have future plans with her (dot dot dot). And I'm just getting started with this whole bloody Stefan-Alaric-Damon fiasco. Expect an Interlude next!


	29. CHAPTER 28: interlude 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This has nothing to do with my story, but have any of you ever watched _"The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon"_ on Youtube and _"Ginosaji vs. Ginosaji - Episode 1 - 4"_ because I suggest it. I don't think I've laughed so hard before in my life. There are also other various clips for it that are very funny and worth watching. You should check them out after you read the below Interlude.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter Includes/Spoilers/WARNING** : Protective!Bonnie, Damon whump, snatch-feed-erase, team-up!?

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

The large black SUV was hard to miss parked in the Boarding House driveway as he pulled in. Damon narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he silently pushed through the front door into the entrance hall, his enhanced hearing super-tuned to the sounds of the large house. One heartbeat was coming from upstairs and though it was originating from Stefan's room, the vampire already knew it wasn't his baby brother's beat. He sped upstairs, pausing unnoticed in the doorway and watched Bonnie packing up a duffle with Stefan's clothes.

Damon made his entrance, stepping into the sunlit bedroom. "What, my baby brother couldn't even break it off with a text, he sent his little witch to pack his shit up while I was out? That's cold."

Bonnie wasn't startled, she'd already sensed his presence. She straightened and simply turned her head too look at him, unimpressed. "Don't make this anymore difficult for yourself, Damon."

"Did you get that sage advice from your crystal ball?"

She rolled her eyes and grabbed Stefan's leather-bound journal from his nightstand and put in his duffle on top of his clothes and toiletries. "Funny, but I don't need a crystal ball to tell me that after everything you've put him through, you and Alaric fighting over him like he's a T-bone and you're a pair of dogs is the last straw. And if it isn't for him, then it is for me—and I warned you what would happen if you hurt Stefan again." She zipped up the duffle and drew the strap over her head and across her chest. "You're actions have consequences, Damon, and if you haven't learned that in the last 169 years, maybe this will finally be your wake-up call."

Damon snorted, unimpressed by her uninspiring threats. She boldly turned her back on him and went to the dresser. She picked up the small fish food container and sprinkled some flakes into the water; Salvatore darted enthusiastically around, catching them as they drifted down. What had Damon's attention was when she tucked the container into the side pocket of the duffle.

"What do you think you're doing?" he said with steel.

"Just taking what Stefan wanted." Damon blurred to her side, fingers wrapped around her thin wrist like a powerful vice as she reached for the fishbowl. "Let go, Damon." She said through pain-gritted teeth. "What are you doing?"

"You are not taking that fish, Bonnie." Damon said lowly. "That's my only guarantee of Stefan coming back."

"Is that uncertainty I detect in your words, Damon?" Bonnie challenged him. "You can't just entrap him."

"Watch me." Damon hissed. "Stefan always come back."

"You're being contradictory," she pointed out to him mildly in the face of his mounting anger. "If he'll come back anyways, than whether Salvatore is here doesn't matter."

"I'm a vampire, it doesn't have to make sense, I just have to get what I want. How bloody things end up is up to you." He flashed his true-face at her.

She was not intimidated. "And I'm done playing games!"

Damon jerked his hand away from her with a surprised curse of pain. He looked down at his blistered palm like her skin had burned him as if covered in vervain. It was healing far too slow, even for a magically influenced wound. He clenched his fingers into a fist against his still blistered palm. His stance shifted. "He's _my_ brother, Bonnie. I won't let anyone take him away from me. Not Katherine, not her doppelganger. Not you and certainly not _Ric_." He spat the name.

"And if you think I'm gonna let him come back here when you're like _this_ ," she gestured at his seething form, "Then you've lost your mind." Before he could launch at her, she made her move, her hand coming up.

"Ah!" Damon clutched at his head, groaning in pain through gritted teeth as she burst vessels in his brain over and over with her magic. He collapsed all too fast onto his knees. His face transformed in instinctive response to the incredible pain. "When I get my hands on you," he managed to hiss, "I'm even gonna eat you, I‘ll just kill you!"

"I'm sure you'll try," Bonnie said dispassionately and with a sharp twitch of her hand, torqued his neck with magic and snapped the vampires neck with a sickening snap. She was unable to stop the flinch at the sound and watched his eyes roll up as he collapsed onto the floor with a quiet thud, temporarily dead. Her chest panting lightly, Bonnie slowly lowered her hand.

She understood what Stefan meant about the healing; Damon's hand was still blistered and he'd gone down far too easily with her brain bursts. Bonnie dropped the duffle to the floor, dipped her fingers in Salvatore's water and knelt by Damon's side on the floor. She took him by the temples with her wet fingers and used the element to help her focus and unite with Damon's aura. She'd never done this with a vampire before, did they even have an aura like living things?

She tried her usual route, but there was no breath, no heartbeat for her to harmonize with. No, vampires didn't have a regular life force like normal humans, they were animated by dark magic— _that_ was what she needed to tap into, the magic. She removed her right hand from Damon's temple, and with a mental eye roll at herself, she pushed her hand under his v-neck collar to lay it on his chest where his undead heart resided. She gave a controlled exhale, and searched out the magic with his own and she felt it. The connection made the fine hairs on her arms and nape stand on end. She could feel it through every cell in his body.

This was nothing like what she felt inside of Stefan, that hungry black hole sucking down her magic. In fact, she felt resistance in Damon, like her magic was an invader. Bonnie had to concentrate all the more to stay connected. She needed to delve deeper, find Damon's Power, and it was there, at the very center of concentration of dark magic at his heart. The only way she could describe it was a bead of swirling, dark magic. There was something--

She almost jolted back in surprise and she felt the _contraction_ of ventricle walls. No, she mentally shook herself. It was her magic, she was just scaring herself, but then she felt it, a familiarity of Stefan aura, his essence.

Bonnie gulped; she had no idea what that meant. Was it because he and Stefan were brothers and she just never noticed it in Stefan because she didn’t recognize Damon's aura, his essence or was it because Damon drank Stefan's magically thirsty doppelganger blood?

Would she find the same if she checked Alaric?

**_~ T V D ~_ **

Damon rubbed at the lingering ache in his neck as he stepped onto the sidewalk. The continued weakness of his body was annoying and add in getting taken down by some teenage witch that fancied herself his brother's protector and he was infuriated. But he was passed the level of blinding rage and senseless destruction, and was at his peak of calculated wrath. Bonnie might be Stefan's friend but right now she was what stood between him and his baby brother—that made her Damon's enemy. She was too smart not to sense him a mile away, he couldn't just speed in, do what he did best and end up with what he wanted. No, he needed to be a little more clever than that. So, he would do the last thing she or anyone expected (his specialty) and make his rival his friend, get what he wanted, then terminate the relationship with Damon style.

A couple walked out of the Grill, his destination, the guy's arm around her shoulder, the girl's hand cutely tucked into his back pocket. They looked like the were high school seniors.

"Don't mind if I do," he said to himself as he smoothly changed directions and followed close behind. "I could use a pick-me-up."

They weren’t even halfway down the block when he made his move, moving at inhuman speed. They stumbled from him deep in the alleyway when he released their arms. It was mildly entertaining to watch their confusion, and it always prickled his predatory senses when he saw their fear.

"What the hell, man?" the guy demanded, automatically pulling his girlfriend protectively behind him. Ah, chivalry.

"Sorry to interrupt your cute little lunch date, but I haven't had lunch yet and I'm hungry."

"Screw you, freak!" the guy shouted and tried to dart around him, hand gripping his girlfriend's.

Damon sped the few feet that separated them, causing the guy to stubble back in surprise, the girl to let out a little scream.

"Shut up and stand still." Damon barked with compulsion.

"Rick," the girl uttered fearfully, backing up a step, tugging her boyfriend's arm but he was unmoved.

Damon grabbed her arm and pulled her forward. "And why don't you shut up and stand still for me, too, sweetheart." He suggested, pinching her chin. She did, her blue eyes wide and glossy with tears as she looked at him, but his interested turned to the boy. "Rick, Rick, Rick," Damon chided him. "I can't say what it is about you, but it's gonna be a struggle for me not to tear out your jugular. We'll just have to see how it goes... _Rick_." Veins crawled hungrily under his eyes, his lip pulled back to reveal wicked fangs, double the trouble and lunged for the frozen teenager's throat.

It was like drinking water when what he craved was alcohol.

...

Alaric sat at the bar in the Grill, draining the bourbon from his glass. As a vampire, it didn't even hold that smooth burn for him anymore. He set the tumbler back on the napkin and silently tapped the glass's edge at the bartender indicating a request for a refill. The bartender warily approached.

He'd already drained his stashed supply of bourbon in his apartment last night, or really early this morning. He might have gotten drunk if he hadn't coupled the alcohol binge with the few blood bags he kept stashed in his crisper drawer. His apartment was practically spiting distance from The Mystic Grill & Bar, so here he was. He couldn't care right now how it looked; history teacher sitting at the bar (which was frequented by his students) alone at 1 o'clock on a Saturday. He needed to get drunk, blasted, just for a minute, but the snail's pace the bartender kept refilling his tumbler, he was staying sober fast. His anger, his hurt, all enhanced by his vampirism feed into his hunger, his inclination to rage and tear and feed, all of which would hit him in one big jumble of satisfaction if he were to free it—and then what? Once he didn't have that wall of anger boxing him in, keeping him distracted and focused on all the wrong things... Alaric threw back the contents of the glass and compelled the bartender to leave the bottle.

A different pair of fingers beat him to the neck, dragging it across the bar top. "Well, if it isn't the lesser vampire." Damon reached over behind the bar to deftly snatch up a clean tumbler before he settle back on the stool next to Alaric, bottle neck clinking against tumbler lip as he filled his glass with amber joy.

Alaric's forearms rested on the bar, his fingertips pressed constrained against the polished top; there was enough tension wound up in his muscles that with the right release point, he could destroy the bar with barely a twitch.

"Aw, bampi want his bottle?"

"Unless you want to lose your heart next," Alaric warned lowly, staring straight ahead, "Then you should put the bottle back where you got it and get the fuck out of my bubble."

"Relax," he said mildly, sliding the bottle back smoothly across the bar; his palm was still pink and sensitive from being freshly healed. "I'm here to make a deal." He sipped his bourbon.

Alaric scoffed. "I would trust the devil more than I do you."

"Aw, that tickles me, Ric. Right here in my heart that you're so fond of," Damon tapped his chest. "You know, I just met a Rick before I came in here. Think he might even be one of your students." He turned his glass round on the napkin, his implication clear, but just to be sure... "I found it rather therapeutic when I tore into his jugular." Alaric was on his feet in a blink. Damon stood from the stool and faced the vampire. "What? Is that jealousy peaking its head out, Ric?" Damon murmured. Alaric fisted his black button-up aggressively. Damon's only reaction was to turn his head slightly and take a drink of bourbon.

"Hey, no trouble in here, fellas." The bartender interrupted the moment.

"Trouble?" Damon repeated, a smirk at the corner of his lips. He kept his gaze on Alaric. "No trouble, honey, just foreplay." He finally turned his head and caught the bartender's gaze and compelled, "Mind your own business, can't you see we're having a moment? Shoo-fly." The bartender blinked and turned away. Damon turned his attention back to Alaric. "It's okay, Stefan gets jealous too when I feed from Andie." Alaric growled lowly. Damon rolled his eyes. "Oh, stow it, Ric. You're jealous, incompetent ego is starting to backslide from entertaining to annoying and I've had enough of you stretching and wrinkling my shirt." Damon peeled Alaric's hands away. To an outside observer it looked like an easy gesture but really there was 200 pounds of pressure applied to get it done. Damon sat back on the stool and turned to face the bar. "You and I both want the same thing—my brother." He topped off his glass, patient as he sipped it in wait for the dirty-blond. "You want to kill me, you might even get it done. Then what? You can't compel Stefan to forget and he would never forgive you. Do you really want to play who-will-he-give-his-rose-to? Even that's a road _I'm_ not keen to go down and that's saying something because you and I both know that Stefan would end up just being a martyr and eat the fucking rose.”

Finally, Alaric sat back down on his stool. "What the hell do you want, Damon?"

"I want my brother back and if that means I have to bud-up with you, well, then." Damon clinked his tumbler against Alaric’s empty one sitting on the napkin and threw back the contents.

"So be it." Alaric filled his tumbler and took a large swallow. What the fuck was he doing?! He watched Damon from the corner of his eye. Stefan thought he was the curse that entered their lives and rained misery, pain and suffering down on them all. But it was the opposite, _they_ were the ones that caused Stefan to suffer, caused his pain both physical and emotional. They were the source.

_[...tbc...]_

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**


	30. CHAPTER 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I posted the prologue to this story November 1, 2017. In 6 days it will be the 1 year anniversary since. Back in the beginning when I wrote in my opening author's note:** _"I've just recently finish rewatching season 1 of The Vampire Diaries and this plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone; I was practically forced to write this LOL. It utterly got out of hand, I mean waaaaay out hand."_ **That had been when I'd just written 4 chapters of this story, including the prologue. Little did I fathom 'waaaaay out of hand' wouldn't even cover it by chapter 30. I didn't even think there would be a chapter 30. This is by far my longest work and this is the longest I've worked on one story. And I can't even tell you how or when this beautiful beast will end. Just want to say  
>  HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY!!!   
> and thank all of you profusely for reading, the favs, the follows, all these awesome reviews that make me so happy and I hope you all continue to stick with me and read this to its end.  
> Here is an angsty chapter, hope you enjoy!**

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Stefan's lashes momentarily fluttered, optic nerve filtering Salvatore's deep flame orange scales darting across his vision before his lids closed again.

He was having a disorienting dream from his emotional and physical pain mixed with the drugs. He watched himself, no, not himself, his doppelganger through a barrier of water like running falls with his left-arm blue fibreglass cast. Damon and Alaric where there but they weren't demanding to know where Stefan was. Alaric cupped his doppelganger's nape and started to kiss him, and Damon started to reverently feed from his right wrist. Stefan attempted to duck through the curtain of falling water, but just like a threshold barrier, no matter how hard he pounded with his fist and red cast, it was solid. They didn't even realize it wasn't him or maybe they preferred it; they weren't fighting, trying to kill each other, they were sharing. Stefan dropped his arms in defeat, tears blurring his vision. He felt lips against his, a mouth on his wrist, a blue cast heavy on his right arm. They didn't realize, notice or care that it wasn't _him_.

He opened his eyes, lashes heavy with absorbed tears and watched Salvatore swim in his bowl. The pain in his chest overthrew the throbbing ache in his arm, the twinge in his shoulder. Had it even fucking been real, the... vision he had in the hospital of him—the boy with the blue cast or was it his subconscious playing a cruel trick on him and that little teleplay was just kicked loose by the morphine? Whether that was true or not, the fear was real, so very real.

Stefan's left hand reached out to the nightstand where Salvatore's fishbowl resided, fingertips pushed against the glass; Salvatore's fins brushed against glass as he swam by. "I recognized you, I picked you." His voice was a gruff whisper. "Out of all of them, I knew you. Why would they want me when they could have him?" he dropped his hand, his arm hanging awkwardly off the side of the double mattress, his casted arm hitched against his ribs over the covers. He squeezed his eyes closed, swallowing against the emotion, it lodged somewhere at the base of his throat.

He heard the door quietly open and someone come into the room. He kept his eyes closed, his fingers hanging limply as she came over to check on him and that was when it hit, the realization of what was so out of place in Elena's room other than himself—Salvatore. He jerked upright, wincing.

Bonnie jumped back, startled. "You scared me, Stefan. Are you okay?"

He instantly shook his head. "No, no." He pointed with his left at Salvatore sitting on the nightstand, his right shoulder automatically tensing back for the weight of the cast, sending a sharp pain up the right side of his neck. "How-- What is Salvatore doing here? He can't be here!"

"Easy, Stef." Bonnie tried to ease him back.

"Bonnie!" he snapped and she backed off. "Why is Salvatore here?"

"I went to the Boarding House earlier this morning and packed some clothes for you." She took a deep breath. "And I brought Salvatore back with me, too."

"No," Stefan shook his head again. "He can't be here, Bonnie. He need's to go back. If Damon comes home and sees that Salvatore is gone he'll--"

"He already knows, Stefan."

"What?" he asked faintly.

"He came home when I was packing."

Now Stefan was confused. "If that's true, he never would have let you take him."

"You're right, he tried to stop me." She paused and licked her lips; in the face of Stefan she couldn't help but feel guilty. "I broke his neck."

"Bonnie!" Stefan jumped to his feet, left hand automatically cradling his right as his bare chest panted, fear in his eyes. "His Power's all messed up, his healing is on the fritz. He can't-- a broken neck is too much, Bonnie. He can't--"

Bonnie put a hand on his left shoulder. "I promise he was healing, Stefan. It was slow, but he was healing."

"I need to make sure he's okay and take Salvatore back," he tried to moved passed her but she blocked his path.

"He was gonna try and use Salvatore as leverage to make you go back, Stefan." She scoffed. "I wasn't going to let him do that."

Stefan roughly carded his fingers through his mussed hair, sweaty at the temples. "You don't get it!" he said in frustration.

"Then tell me," she returned levelly.

He gritted his teeth and paced shortly. It would be so easy to just shout it at her, feel good for an instant to just get the dirty, shameful truth off his chest: ' _I tried to kill myself! I threw myself off the roof and for an instant I was f--'_ , but it meant nothing out of context with the other details of that morning and Bonnie would be horrified and devastated by the news. She was so furious and upset with him (rightly so) when he'd kept the deterioration a secret until he couldn't physically hide it anymore, but intentionally trying to kill himself was a completely different knowledge. Stefan stopped and faced her, "Damon knows what Salvatore means to me, what he represents. I know you do too, Bonnie. That day, when you got Salvatore for me... Damon despised me, Ric broke it off, Elena wanted nothing to do with me, and John hit me with his truck... you were there. I was gonna--" he bit his bottom lip harshly to not have to say the words and saw the second she _realized_ what he wasn't saying. He was disconcerted with his own realization that she _hadn't_ known his true intentions with his attempt to leave her Prius.

"You--" a sob chocked her. Hand pressed to her mouth, Bonnie stumbled back and sat heavily on the cushioned stool at Elena's dressing table, her other hand gripping the edge.

"I thought you knew,"

She slowly shook her head helplessly. "I had a foreboding that if I let you out of the car, let you leave, I would never see you again. I guess I was right. But suicide..."

"I'm sorry, Bon. I never--"

She held up a hand and silenced him. To stop it shaking, she gripped the other side of the stool. "There's no point in saying that now, Stefan." Releasing a slightly unsteady breath, Bonnie raised her head to look at him, her mouth set. "But I'll tell you again what I told you then: ' _You're not alone. If you don't have it in you to fight right now, then I will do it for you.'"_

Stefan scoffed. "I'm more than ready to fight right now, Bonnie. Are you? Because you took Salvatore and Damon's gonna think I've left him. Damon may be back to acting like the big brother he was when we were human but now he has a vampiric flare. He's not going to let this go, Bonnie." He warned her.

She stood, steady. "I know. That's why I put barrier spell on the house so he can't get in despite being invited in already."

Stefan blinked at her in disbelief. "You put a barrier on the house. There's no need for that, I just need to see him and then there's no _need_ for a barrier, Bonnie."

"Stefan, you called Elena and I for a reason and it wasn't to go crawling back to Damon 10 hours later. You didn't see him, Stefan. He's not stable right now."

"Then that's where I need to be." He persisted. Yes, he'd wanted a minute of space to breathe and think and cool off, for all of them to cool off, but not like _this_ with his freedom of the choice taken away from him.

Bonnie shook her head. "That's the last place you're supposed to be. This a volatile situation, the three of you together are like a powder keg waiting to go off." She took a step forward and placed a gentle hand on his bare bicep. "I love you, Stefan. You're my friend and I care about you, so if I have to make this a two-way Salvatore barrier to keep you safe from yourself, then that's what I'll do. I won't be happy to do it, but I will if you make me."

Stefan stared at her in disbelief before pursing his lips tightly. He already knew no matter how much he argued or tried to persuade her, the Bennett witch wouldn't change her mind. It was utterly ridiculous. "Fine." He conceded. "If you won't let me go and see him then at least let me call--"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"And you think cutting him off completely is the best solution?" Stefan protested. "We still don't know what's wrong with his Power and hunger and why drinking other's blood isn't working."

"Like you said, Stefan, it's a wait-and-see situation so we're gonna wait a couple days, see if your blood helped him regain his appetite for human blood and if not _then_ we'll address it."

Now was probably not the time to tell her the unnumbered amount of people Damon may have already killed before he cornered Stefan at Shadowland Vortex, it would only fuel her anger and indignity at his brother. He exhaled through his nose and stayed silent, sitting back on the side of the bed, his cast cradled to his chest. What was he supposed to say? Stefan didn't believe that Bonnie would fall for the same argument that Damon had, particularly because when Damon had threatened to keep him prisoner the danger had already passed, but for Bonnie the danger was real and present—Damon was that threat. She had seen firsthand what he could do, had learned what he was proficient at very early on in their relationship, what he was capable when he wanted something (particularly when it involved his little brother)—which spanned anything necessary. Stefan's indignant argument about being held prisoner would only sound like a childish tantrum; Bonnie had been there with John, too.

"I'm just trying to keep you safe, Stefan." Bonnie sighed sadly when he gave no reaction. She picked up the duffle on the floor by the closet and set it on the foot of the bed. "Here are some clean clothes and your toiletries. Jenna and Elena are heating up some stew for lunch. Would you like to eat up here or downstairs?"

"Downstairs," Stefan finally murmured.

Bonnie nodded, lingering for a moment as she bit the inside of her cheek, before giving herself a small resigned nod. "I'll tell Elena." She retrieved his cell phone from his jacket pocket and left, clicking the door closed behind her.

Stefan let himself sit in pity for a moment before he made himself get up. He grabbed his duffle and went into the bathroom. He set it on the counter and started at himself in the mirror; weariness pulled at him, pain, frustration, and resignation filled the cracks in his broody expression. His hair was dried in a sweaty disarray, he was pallid, and he felt grimy from sleeping in pained and night terror sweat. What he wanted was a shower but he just couldn't be bothered, instead he splashed water on his face with a cupped left hand and ran wet fingers through his hair. He patted his face dry and ran a comb through his hair. He found his deodorant in the duffle, and pulled a cotton blue tee with a left breast pocket on. He relieved himself at the toilet then relieved himself of Jeremy's sweat pants for a pair of his own blue jeans, foregoing his belt still in the loops of his jeans from last night. He swallowed a muscle relaxer from the nightstand but didn't take a pain pill. It was a relief to put the sling on and get proper support for his aching, heavy limb.

Ready as he was ever gonna be, he only paused briefly at his jacket hanging on a hook on the door to dig out his wallet and keys and put them into his jean pockets before leaving Elena's bedroom. He could hear them in the kitchen and stood in the open threshold. Jenna stood at the stove stirring the stew in the pot with a wooden spoon; Bonnie was pulling down glass bowls from the cupboard; Elena had just finished rinsing out the cans in the sink and was drying her hands; he wasn't sure where Jeremy was, maybe the 16 year old was still sleeping, Stefan tried to sleep in when he could even if it meant missing breakfast.

"Stefan," Elena seemed to notice him first and soon enough was carefully hugging him, pressed more against his left side to avoid pressing against his arm in the sling, her left arm snaked around his waist under the sling, her other curled up behind his shoulder, her chin on his shoulder.

"Hey," his left arm wrapped warmly around her waist, holding her close and he pressed his cheek against her loose hair. He wondered if she was in on Bonnie's plan, too?

"Stefan," Jenna said and Stefan opened his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them. "I'm glad to see you up. I was worried when I woke up last night and Elena told me what happened."

"I didn't mean to disrupt your night, Jenna, and I promise I'll be out of your hair--"

"Don't worry about that, Stefan." She waved him off. "I'm glad you're doing okay and of course you can stay the rest of the weekend if you need it. You shouldn't be alone in that big house so soon after being released from the hospital."

"Thank you, Jenna, I really appreciate it." Stefan's gaze flickered to Bonnie, there was a downward quirk to the corner of her mouth. This might have been the only smooth exit he had; Bonnie couldn't keep him in a place where he wasn't welcome.

Elena finally pulled away. "You should sit, Stefan. I'll get you some coffee."

"You d--" he started but she was already at the counter pulling a coffee mug from the cupboard. "Thanks, Elena, I could really use one." He pulled out a chair and sat, rubbing the right side of his neck.

"How's your arm feeling?" Elena asked quietly as she set the steaming cup of black coffee in front of him. "Did you take your pain meds?"

"Thanks. Just the muscle relaxers," he turned the cup and put his fingers through the handle and took a sip. "It's tolerable, I've had worse."

"Stefan," she protested. "You should--"

He put the mug down and looked up at her next to him. "They mess with my head, Elena. I'll take them if it gets too much." He promised quietly, swallowing back his repeated comment of ' _I've had worse'_. "They're only supposed to last a few days anyways as my body recovers from the trauma of the reduction."

She was quiet for a moment before she gave a small nod. "Okay." She set out a butter dish with bread and cheese slices on the table. "Jeremy, lunch is ready!" Elena called out.

"Yeah!" was shouted back momentarily. A minute later Jeremy trotted down the main hall and into the kitchen, stuffing his cell phone into his hoodie pocket. "Hey, Stefan."

"Hey. Thanks for letting me borrow the sweat pants." Stefan said.

Jeremy poured himself a glass of fruit punch before sitting at the table. "Hey, it's cool, man. I honestly thought that was just some weird dream until Elena told me this morning."

"Hope you're hungry, Stefan." Jenna turned off the burner and moved the pot to a cold burner before scooping stew into the glass bowls that Bonnie passed her. "It's not burnt, I promise." She joked.

Stefan gave a small smile. "I believe you."

They all sat around the table.

"Do you want bread and butter, Stefan?" Elena asked.

He nodded and she started to butter a piece. "I can--" he started.

She held out the piece to him. "It's already done."

He took it. "Thanks."

"Can you even eat with your left?" Jeremy wondered, tearing his unbuttered piece of bread into pieces before rolling them into little balls into his stew. "It would suck to break my dominant hand, but at least I'd get out of having to do homework."

"Ha!" Jenna laughed. "I don't think so, buster. I've seen you sketch with your left hand so that's not gonna fly here."

"That's _shading_ , Aunt Jenna. It's completely different," Jeremy protested.

"Nope, still not buying it."

"I taught myself to be ambidextrous," Stefan answered, "So I'm the same off whether I have my right hand or not. So, how did laser tag go?" he asked. "Did the Gilbert siblings face-off and see who took the crown or did Tyler sneak up on you?" he gladly let it dominate the rest of lunch; he was thankful they all had fun, sad that he hadn't be a part of it for long, but maybe he really just wasn't meant to, it was just his momentary happiness.

Stefan bent a slice of marble cheese, breaking it in half and slowly eating a piece. He felt a gaze on him through the back-and-forth of the Gilbert siblings and looked up at Bonnie. What was he supposed to do, what was he supposed to say? If he looked at it objectively, if their rolls were reversed, he understood, he got it; but being trapped in the middle of it? ' _I'm just trying to protect you',_ from him recent experiences, there was no protection, there was just after the fact. Was he finally hitting the bottom of his credence in people, more those closest to him? He couldn't stand people getting hurt because of him; whether that was Damon hurting people or just Damon hurting. Damon had already experienced for a stretch of hours where Stefan was dead, he wasn't now going to accept Stefan's believed chosen absence.

Stefan dropped his gaze back to Elena and Jeremy, eating the rest of the cheese, a mechanical smile on his lips. His fingers clenched into a fist, blunt fingernails digging into the dry plaster covering half his right palm hidden in the sling, sending a sharp stab through the limb. Damon was a known wild card to him, but he'd also never seen Alaric this angry before _and_ as a vampire. He just hopped Ric was holed-up drinking bourbon and blood bags, not his neighbours and staying clear of Damon.

For Bonnie's and everyone else's sake.

"I feel weird not helping clean up," Stefan said when they were finished eating.

"You saying that is already 70% better than the effort Jeremy puts in," Jenna deadpanned, collecting bowls.

"That wasn't targeted," Jeremy said, pushing in his chair. "You should love me for who I am, not who I could be, Aunt Jenna." He pledged heartfelt, hand over his heart.

Elena whipped at him with a twisted dish towel, "Alright, smartass." Jeremy jumped back with a grin.

"That was deep, Jeremy." Bonnie laughed.

"Just speaking from the heart."

"Uh-huh, right." Elena scoffed, tossing the dish towel at his face and the teenager grabbed it. "You can speak from your heart's content while doing the dishes." She skipped around the table, grabbed Bonnie and Stefan's hands and pulled them from the kitchen.

Stefan let himself be pulled along. If he could just think of this as another episode of Stefan House Arrest he wouldn't drive himself crazy with the glaring obvious that it wasn't under his usual warden.

...

Stefan sat in Elena's window seat, left knee bent with his forearm resting on it, staring out blankly with a half-obscured view by the lush tree outside her bedroom, Alaric's sweater with the now bloodstained cuff crumpled in his lap. The screenless window was open, the warm May breeze feeling nice as the sun grew lower in the sky. He slowly reached his left hand out. He met no resistance, his hand passing through the window threshold into open air. The tree was right there, it was just a short jump, one he used to make all the time as a vampire; of course he could just as easily jumped to the second story window from the ground but he was going for the human authenticity of it. Stefan had fast discovered that it was easier to pretend to be human than actually being human. Right now he could slip out; he was alone, no one was watching him, he could get an hour head start at best.

His escape was right there, he could take it. But looking across at the extended branch, at the green lawn below, it was like it stretched out to an inexplicable distance. It gave him a sense of vertigo. He sat back with his heart beating in his throat and pulled his arm back into his lap, his fingers clenched in the sweater. His escape was right there and yet he didn't take it. He looked away from his freedom angrily and ashamed at himself. He had a literal clipped wing, or that was what he lied to himself. So, he could get out, then what? _that_ was the truth. How the fuck was he really supposed to fix this stupid mess?

He slammed the window shut, cut off his exit and turned away to hide in Bonnie's bosom. As long as he was cut off, as long as he didn't confront, he could still have both Damon and Alaric. He could--

"Everything okay, Stefan?" Bonnie came into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. "I heard a bang."

"I still here, aren't I?" he returned bitterly and grimaced with a flash of guilt at the look of shocked hurt on her face.

"Stefan, I--"

"I don't know what you want from me, Bonnie." He said in frustration and a bit of desperation as he stood. "I didn't jump out the window. I thought about it but I didn't, okay? You win."

"I'm not trying to _win_ ," Bonnie protested.

Stefan shook his head in despair. "You are, you _all_ are. You, Alaric, Damon; it's some twisted threeway battle but the prize is all just some fantasy-Stefan, some illusion that isn't real. All the future blood you three spill, how am I supposed to make up for that, Bonnie?"

"I'm not trying to spill anyone's blood, Stefan, I'm trying to prevent _yours_ from being spilled." Bonnie corrected. "That's what _they_ want, that's what _they're_ after."

"I know what Damon's done to you," Stefan countered softly, "I know that he's hurt you, Bon, but--"

Bonnie shook her head, raising her hand and stopping his words. "I'm not afraid of him anymore, Stefan. I am afraid _for you_ because of _him_. I'm doing this for your safety."

"Ric ripped Damon's liver out in retaliation for _me!_ " Stefan said, tears pricking behind his eyes. "Do you think I wanted that? Do you think I woke up and thought ' _I'm gonna have my boyfriend rip out my brother's liver in retribution for something I never held a grudge against him for',_ because I didn't, Bonnie. I didn't want any of this, I just wanted them to stop."

Bonnie clenched her fists at her sides to prevent herself from reaching out and trying to comfort him when she knew she'd just feel the burn of his rejection. "Why didn't you jump out the window?" she finally asked quietly.

He reached his left arm across himself to cradle his arm already in the sling and the sight crushed Bonnie because with his shoulders slightly slumped in defeat, it looked like he was hugging himself. "Because I'm selfish and I'm afraid to face the damage I've caused. I'm a coward, why do you think I moved around so much as a vampire, I was afraid to face the damage and devastation my presence caused." _I'm like the fucking plague._

"You're not a coward, Stefan." He scoffed at her but she persisted. "We're all afraid of something. Keeping you three separated is what's for the best for everyone, that's why you called us, that's why you're still here now. You know I'm right."

"'Out of sight, out of mind' is a false statement, here, now, and every when else." Stefan informed her, straightening his shoulders. "Vampires don't forget and they hold a bitch of a grudge—I lived 145 years under Damon's."

"Neither Damon or Alaric have called your cell or texted. The same with mine and Elena's phone." Bonnie said. "What does that tell you?"

Stefan looked at her solemnly. "They're planning."

"I warned your brother what would happen if he hurt you again, Stefan. Even before your arm, I knew he hurt you but I did nothing. Maybe this never would have happened if I'd done something then. Well, I'm not going to make that same mistake again."

He furrowed his brows in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"A couple days ago when you came to school you were hurt, you said Damon--"

"Bonnie," Stefan shook his head in denial, mouth agape slightly with mild horror at what she was referencing. "That was not Da--"

"Stop trying to protect him."

"Damon didn't hurt me," Stefan persisted firmly, truthfully. Elena entered the bedroom but it was already too late, the words had already left his mouth: "I was sore that day because I had rough sex with my boyfriend!"

Bonnie's cheeks burned. "Oh."

Elena froze in surprise, lips pursed, taken by a mixture of embarrassment and jealousy. Stefan palmed his face in humiliation. There was a clatter from the connected bathroom and all three teenagers' heads snapped in that direction, staring at the cracked door. Sharing a look with the others, Elena approached the door. "Jeremy, is that you?"

The cracked door slowly opened. "Um," Jeremy said, "This is awkward."

"How much did you hear?" Stefan wondered tersely.

"I wasn't eavesdropping, I swear." Jeremy promised quickly. "I was just grabbing some Q-tips; I like to use them to blend sometimes when I'm using charcoal."

"How much, Jeremy?" Elena repeated firmly, pulling her brother into the room and closing the bathroom door.

He glanced at each of them, his brown gaze falling quickly as he met Stefan's. Jeremy shuffled a little uncomfortable as he mumbled, "Just Stefan saying he had rough sex with his boyfriend. Can I go now?"

"No." Elena was behind him at the bathroom door and a glance confirmed that Bonnie was his obstacle to the bedroom door.

"Jeremy, I would really appreciate it if you could keep this to yourself," Stefan requested. If Jeremy was telling the truth and Stefan hoped to god that he was, than he just needed a little damage control and it would be fine; he never said Ric's name. "Only 4 other people know I'm bisexual."

Jeremy looked up, having no problem meeting his eyes when he said: "Of course, Stefan. I'm not some asshole that's going to out you."

"Thank you," Stefan sighed with relief.

"You good, Jer?" Elena asked softly, a hand on the back of his shoulder.

He glanced at her and nodded. "Yeah. Can I ask...?"

"What is it?"

"Is-- is that why you two broke up?"

"No," both doppelgangers answered at the same time.

"We were already broken up when Elena found out," Stefan said.

"I'm not proud of how I reacted," Elena admitted.

"You were hurt, I don't blame you. I'm just thankful that we're friends again."

"Okay. Well, I'm gonna--" Jeremy gestured his fistful of Q-tips. "Can I?"

"Yeah, yeah." Elena couldn't help but give him a quick hug before letting him make his awkward escape back through the connected bathroom.

The 3 remaining occupants shared a moment of silence and shared relief. "That was close," Bonnie said.

Elena looked between them. "What exactly were you two talking about that lead to that moment exactly?" Stefan and Bonnie shared a look that spoke volumes that Elena couldn't interpret.

"Can we not talk anymore?" Stefan asked. "Can we just do something normal, boring and fun? I think that would be really nice right now."

"I'm sure I can dig something to that calibre up," she agreed. Elena closed the short distance and put a long-fingered hand on his arm. "Are you okay? I'm sure that's the last thing you needed to deal with right now."

Stefan gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"It was definitely the last thing I expected to walk in on, but I guess I have a habit of doing just that." She said wryly, finally dropping her hand. "I'll just be a minute." Elena gave Bonnie a look as she passed her friend out the bedroom door.

There was an awkward silence between the 2 with Elena's absence. Bonnie bit her lip for a moment as she regarded him. "I don't like you upset with me," she finally said quietly.

His weary gaze flickered over to her. "It's fine. I love you, Bonnie. I just want it to be over and done with for once."

"Alright," Elena returned, several board game boxes in her arms. "Family night board games." She put them on the foot of her bed and sat, her leg tucked under her as she went through them, "We got your classic _Monopoly, The Game of Life, Sorry!, Snakes and Ladders, Trivial Pursuit, Uno_ and a plain deck of playing cards. Pick your pleasure!"

After some mild debate, they decide to start with _The Game of Life_ and set up on Elena's made bed. The 2 doppelgangers sat at the head and the witch at the foot of the bed. Stefan at least made it through this game night, no nosebleed, but also no vampires.

_**~ T V D ~** _

Stefan lay in bed awake, staring listlessly at the dim ceiling. He could hear Bonnie and Elena sleeping on the floor on the right, their bed of blankets angled between him and the closed bedroom door. Elena's alarm clock on the nightstand on the same side read 4:58 a.m. He slowly pushed the blanket off and sat, carefully setting his bare feet on the wood floor beneath. Eyes already adjusted to the dim, he made it cleanly through the short distance to the bathroom from the bed. He silently closed the door behind him and left through the main bathroom entrance in the hallway. Casted arm self-cradled to his sternum, he made his way down the stairs. He frowned at the front door as he passed to the kitchen; he thought he'd heard tapping.

Left hand stretched slightly in front of him to ward off any unexpected obstacles, he found his way around the breakfast table and bar to the sink, switching on the overhead sink light. From there he easily retrieved a glass from the cupboard and after a short search, turned up the bottle of red that Jenna kept. Stefan carefully eased the wedged cork out and filled the glass a quarter before he pressed the cork back and returned the bottle back to its nook.

The first swallow was with a sigh of familiarity at the taste of fermented grape. He knew he shouldn't drink alcohol with the pain meds that already messed with him, but he'd taken them 5 hours ago. He leaned back against the breakfast bar and took another drink. With the light on over the sink, he could only see himself in the reflection in the windowpane. When he was finished, he rinsed the glass and left it in the sink. He turned off the overhead sink light and waited for his eyes to adjust before moving back through the kitchen toward the stair.

_taptaptap_

Stefan stopped and listened for a long moment. When he finally decided that he was just hearing things, he heard the tapping again. He turned and faced the front door, the origin of the sound. "Stefan," a faint voice called through the other side of the door. _Damon._ Stefan didn't even realize he'd moved until he found the cold metal of the doorknob in his palm. He froze, breath caught in his throat. "Little brother, I know you're there." Damon's voice was weak. "Open the door. I need your help, something's wrong. Stef, you have to let me in. I think I'm dying, baby." There was a soft thud then silence.

Stefan quickly turned the lock back and yanked the door open, but the porch beyond was empty. "Damon?" he called frantically, stepping out through the threshold onto the dark porch. "Damon!" he searched, jumping down the porch steps onto the stone path, he could feel the cold through his bare soles. But the yard was empty, the nearby street light yielding nothing to his eyes through dark.

His skin prickled and the little hairs on his nape stood on end. Stefan spun around just in time for a weight to come barrelling into his chest, tackling him to the grass. Stefan landed on his back with a grunt, the knock leaving him breathless. He blinked up at the slight figure crouched on his chest, only one side of his face visible for the streetlight, the face of his 10 year old self stared down at him, his 10 year old _doppelganger's_ self, but the iris wasn't coloured his typical forest green but instead a vibrant pearl grey. Suddenly, with a sound almost like tearing fabric, huge shadows expanded from the boy's back, Stefan's eyes widened as he caught sight of white feather tips in the streetlight—and Stefan blinked up at Elena's ceiling, the bed frame shaking slightly as he reactively jolted to the dream. Or was it a dream?

He turned his head on the pillow, the alarm clock read 4:58 a.m. Stefan didn't move, didn't even blink as he watched the glowing red numbers, his breath caught in his throat as he waited. He didn't push off the covers and get out of bed or go downstairs. The numbers changed to 4:59.

"Stefan?"

Stefan let out a sharp breath at the unexpected soft whisper of his name from the silence. He hadn't thought he'd done anything loud enough to awake anyone. "Everything's okay, go back to sleep, Elena." He whispered back, just as hushed. He got no verbal answer in response. He didn't think he really expected anything less when the soft rustle produced her dark outline rising from the floor. "Elena," he leaned up on a elbow.

Bonnie turned in is sleep on the floor before settling again with an exhale. "Quiet, you don't want to wake Bonnie." She pulled the covers back and slid into her bed. He only laid back when she put a hand on his chest. "Was it a nightmare?" she nestled her head on his left shoulder, her hand still resting on his chest, feeling the fall and rise.

His arm automatically curled around her back, his hand resting on her narrow waist; she could feel the cold band of the Gilbert ring on his finger where her tank top had ridden up. "I don't know what else I could call it," was all he let himself murmur in answer.

"Everything will be okay," she promised.

Cheek against her crown, he stared up at the ceiling. "How can you say that?"

"You all love each other, that has to count for _something_." Was the Petrova doppelganger's conviction.

Stefan scoffed lightly. "There's no love lost between Damon and Ric, trust me. You're thinking like a human, Elena. They're not, they're vampires and vampires develop their own type of ethics, you can't live by human standards when your _aren't_ human."

"But you did--" Elena started in protest.

"No," he interrupted. "I _played_ at being human, but I wasn't. I fought against my nature as a vampire, Damon found a balance with his, and Ric is just starting to discover his true nature. It's just reality. When we complete the transition it alters the chemical make-up in our mind, a cellular metamorphosis. With the heightened emotion that comes with it, as a vampire, passed a certain date in their existence, annoyance becomes hate in a snap of the fingers, love turns into possession... it's just how it is, Elena."

She was silent, processing his words. Her hand moved down his cotton tee clad chest under the blanket, stopping when she found his casted arm where it rested on his abdomen. She stroked his cold fingers. "You said 'we'." She finally spoke. "You're not a vampire, Stefan, not anymore."

_I don't know **what** I am,_ he thought but didn't say. "You're right, I'm sure everything will be okay."

Her fingers only paused briefly at his dismissive admittance before resuming. "Are you and Bonnie really okay?"

"We're just in a disagreement," he tried to reassure her and maybe himself. "She's picking a fight."

"She's trying to protect you."

"I don't want the people I love to fight over something that's not worth it."

"You **are** worth it, Stefan." Elena whispered firmly.

"Not if the cost is bloodshed." He countered. "If I was a vampire this wouldn't even be an issue."

"But you aren't."

"Yeah," he uttered.

"Stefan," she cautioned, not liking the undertone of his agreement.

"Is it even worth it, being human? At least if I were a vampire I could actually do something to stop them from killing each other." He just needed to graduate and finally turn 18 and he wouldn't have to worry about bullshit like this.

"When you talk like that it scares me," Elena told him, her fingers squeezing his.

Stefan gently squeezed her waist in comfort. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "It's late, we both need the rest. Try to get some sleep." He kissed her hair.

"I'll keep the nightmares away." Elena promised. She picked her head up and pressed a kiss to his cheek in the dark, catching the corner of his mouth. She laid her head back on his shoulder, pressing closer against his side. His arm tightened around her. Stefan wasn't sure who fell asleep first, but he took comfort in the warmth of her body against his, the scent of her fruity shampoo as he buried his face in her hair.

_**~ T V D ~** _

When Stefan woke later in the morning, the room lit with natural morning light, they were in much the same position but for Elena laying a little more weight on him as she snuggled against him. He shivered a little as he felt her moist breath against his throat, swallowing quietly.

"Elena?"

She groaned quietly and if possible, snuggled deeper. He sighed quietly to himself and idly started to stroke her back. He couldn't help but wish it was the press of Alaric against him. But it was Sunday and Stefan was going to see him one way or another, whether he made his leave today or it was at school tomorrow. Preferably he had a shower before then, it had been a few days since he'd had one and he wanted to wash everything away; he was going to have a plastic bag over his arm for the next 8 weeks at least. It would be after graduation and into summer by the time he got the cast off; it could be hidden easily enough for both prom and graduation though, so it didn't really matter, the sling would be long gone by then, too. He was both amused and maybe a little proud of himself for even thinking of such mundane, teenage things.

"Mm, that feels nice." Elena murmured, arms briefly tightening around him. She leaned her head back from his throat. "Did you sleep okay?"

He turned his head on the pillow slightly to look at her and gave a small nod. "Yeah," he brushed her loose hair from her face, fingertips brushing along skin. "I always seem to sleep better with the comfort of someone with me, so thank you."

She agreed, "We're both cuddlers." Elena gave him a pleased smile. "It's nice to just have someone sometimes."

"It is."

Elena pushed herself upright and took a quick survey of her room. "It's just after 10 and it looks like Bonnie's already up." She spotted the folded blankets in a pile by her closet. "Come on, up and at 'em!" she jokingly pulled him upright with a grunt of effort. They put their legs over opposite sides of the bed, back-to-back. Stefan fed Salvatore before rising to his feet. When he turned, Elena smiled across at him as they made either side of the bed. "You can have the bathroom first."

Stefan came out a short 10 minutes later, rolling up the sleeve to his button-up shirt easily over his cast with the cuff undone. "All yours," he told Elena; she'd dressed herself while he was in the bathroom.

He'd barely started on his left sleeve when Elena stopped in front of him and said, "Here, let me." And took over his action.

"I _can_ do it myself, you know." He said wryly. "I'm not crippled."

"I know," she said softly, attention focused on his sleeve. "But I like being able to take care of _you_ for once. I know you won't tolerate it for long so I'm taking advantage of the weekend while it lasts, so deal with it." She finally looked up at him, sleeve folded to his elbow.

"Okay," he said.

"Good." She took her turn in the bathroom.

Stefan found Bonnie in the kitchen making herself tea. "Morning,"

Bonnie glanced over her shoulder at him as she steeped her tea with a small smile. "Morning. Can I make you a cup?"

"Sure," he actually felt rested this morning instead of haggard like the other morning. "How long have you been up?"

"Not long," she said, pouring boiled water into 2 new mugs from the water kettle and put the tea bags in to steep. "You and Elena looked comfy, I didn't want to wake you. Honey or sugar?" she already knew how Elena liked hers, and knew how Stefan preferred his coffee but not his tea.

He shifted the strap of the sling. "Honey, thanks." She nodded.

"Here you go," Bonnie held out the steaming mug to him, handle facing out.

"Thank you," he took a careful sip of the hot liquid.

"You, too, Elena." Bonnie offered the second mug to the doppelganger coming into the kitchen.

"Oh, thanks, Bon." Elena smiled and accepted the cup. "Jeremy's still in bed but I can't find Jenna."

"Oh, she had to run out. A girlfriend emergency," Bonnie told her. "Something about a break-up."

Stefan stilled. "Andie?"

"She didn't say."

"You don't think--" Elena started, looking between the two.

"I have to go." Stefan said suddenly, setting his mug down and leaving the kitchen.

"Stefan, wait!" Bonnie and Elena quickly set their teas down and followed Stefan down the main corridor to the front hall.

"Where are you going?" Elena asked as Stefan started to pull on his buckle boots.

"I have my personal issues with Andie but I'm not vindictive enough to just stand-by and let Damon hurt or kill her because he's upset with _me_."

"There haven't been any reports on the news of animal attacks--" Elena started.

"Yeah, well, that becomes a little difficult to do when the woman who reports those things is the victim of an animal attack!"

"If Andie was hurt, Stefan," Elena tried a different tact, "Jenna would have said something to Bonnie." Stefan paused, shoulders heaving, his back to the pair, his grip on the door handle white-knuckled.

"Damon's a dick and a more than a little crazy right now, but he's smart enough not do something that will jeopardize you going back to him." Bonnie added reasonably.

"I can't just hide away here forever," Stefan told them, his eyes squeezed closed. And just like with the window, Stefan released the handle and surrendered his exit. He despised himself so much right now. He felt Elena's arms wrap around him from behind, her cheek pressed against the back of his shoulder.

"Just the weekend," she murmured. "Monday we go to school and you can see Alaric, after we can go to the Boarding House, check on Damon. We'll all be there just in case. Bonnie can suss out everyone's aura's and I'm sure whatever needs fixing can be fixed."

"She's right, Stefan." Bonnie said quietly.

"If it's okay with Jenna, I'll stay one more night, and only one more." Stefan finally agreed, _and then I'm done hiding, whatever tomorrow will hold, I'll face it._

...

"Stefan, sit down, we got this." Elena said, attempting to steer him out of the cooking area of the kitchen and toward the table.

"Just let me season the meat sauce," Stefan pleaded. "I need to do something, I'm going crazy. It's canned pasta sauce, it needs all the help it can get. I won't do anything else, I promise. It's for all of us."

Elena shared a silent conversation with Bonnie with eye contact alone. Bonnie lifted one shoulder slightly and Elena sighed. "Fine, but just the sauce." She brandished the wooden spoon at him for a moment before relinquishing it into his authority.

Stefan took it with a grin. "You won't regret it."

"We'll see." The Gilbert spice selection was basic, unlike the Salvatore spice array, but it would easily get the job done. "What are you doing?" Elena asked warily as he went through the fridge crisper.

To Stefan's delight, he found a package of white mushrooms, a yellow onion, and a green bell pepper. He dumped his load on the breakfast bar. "I need you to chop these," he said.

"Stefan, you said you were just gonna season the sauce."

"I am, all these will add to the flavour profile." He said without pause. "I'm the chef, remember? And I did ask you to chop them, it'll be good practice." Elena pursed her lips but relented. Both she and Bonnie took up a butcher knife and after rinsing the ingredients, got to chopping and dicing under Stefan’s supervision. And maybe while they were focused on that, he stirred the bubbling spaghetti pasta in the large pot on the back burner. "Just put it all in the frying pan with the beef." Just after a few minutes of the added ingredients on the heat and the smell was mouth-watering.

"I won't be able to stay long after dinner," Bonnie said as she busily stirred the spaghetti with the pronged scoop, attempting to hook a single noodle for a taste test. "My dad's expecting me home." She chewed it thoughtfully and put the scoop down, turning to her friends.

"Will the barrier stay up even with you gone?" Elena wondered.

Bonnie nodded. "It'll come down by itself with the cycle of high noon tomorrow." She glanced at Stefan, "It's almost been a week, can I...?" she held out her hand questioningly.

Stefan silently placed his left hand in hers, Bonnie closed her other hand on top over the Gilbert ring adorning his finger, closing her eyes briefly. The two doppelgangers shared a worried look when Bonnie's eyes stayed closed still a minute later, her head cocking curiously.

"Is something wrong or am I still a magic siphoning black hole?" Stefan said.

"What?" Bonnie blinked her eyes open and released his hand. "Sorry, no, it looks fine. I was just thinking."

"Oh, okay." But Stefan brows were crinkled as he went to stir the sauce.

Elena's cell phone chimed. She shot a look between the two and turned for her cell resting on the L of the counter. "It's Jenna, she says she'll be home late and to eat without her." Elena texted back a **(thumbs-up emoji)... everything OK with your friend?**

you know how no break-up is cut and dry. now I know y Damon's out of town for the weekend

"Whoa," Elena muttered.

"What?" Bonnie asked and Stefan looked back over his shoulder.

Elena put her phone down. "I guess Damon really did break-up with Andie—and he left town."

The wooden spoon clattered against the edge of the pan as Stefan dropped it and spun. "He what?" he demanded. "He can't leave, he's not allowed to, not anymore."

"Easy, Stefan," Bonnie put a hand on his shoulder and sent Elena a look. "That was just the vague excuse we gave Jenna when we went to pick you up at the hospital so you could stay over and not tell her that it was actually Damon that broke your arm."

But Stefan was only somewhat mollified on the matter; he knew if he tried to leave they would stop him, but there was a limit to his tolerance. Yes, even he, Saint Stefan had an eventual cut-off point, and in instances where it involved other peoples bullshit and his brother, it was a might shorter than typical. Damon's was just a short fuse in general; he didn't endure, he executed. "Dinner's finished," he informed them.

"I'll tell Jeremy." Elena went over to the closed sliding doors that lead to the living room and pulled them open. Jeremy was leaned forward on the couch, his focus intent on the television, his thumbs and fingers active on the PS3 game controller as quiet gunfire came through the speakers. "Jer, dinner's ready." There was no response from the teen boy. Elena rolled her eyes, came up behind her brother, leaned over the back of the couch and clapped her hands over his eyes, pulling him back.

Jeremy let out an startled, indignant yelp, dropping the controller to the floor. "Elena!" he struggled from her hold.

She chuckled and let him go. "I said dinner was done."

He stood and swiped the hair from his face. "You coulda just said, not attack me!" he scooped up the controller and shut off the game.

"Huh, how come I didn't think of doing that first?" she drolled. "Oh, that's right, I _did_. Maybe if you listened to me when I'm talking to you I wouldn't have to resort to guerrilla tactics." She went back into the kitchen.

He just made a face at her back and stuck his tongue out and followed her. Bonnie had drained the pasta and mixed it with the meat sauce. They grabbed plates, took their serving and sat down at the table.

"This is really good, Stefan." Jeremy complimented, his mouth full.

"How do you know it was Stefan's doing?" Elena challenged.

"It's good," and he jumped in his seat as he dodged Elena's kick.

Stefan twirled spaghetti around his fork and ate.

...

They lay side-by-side in the bed in the dark room.

"You'll see them tomorrow," Elena promised, her fingers carding through his in the space of the bed between them. "We'll fix this."

"OK." He murmured, staring through the dark at the ceiling. She squeezed his hand.

_**~ T V D ~** _

Stefan woke before the set alarm and Elena. He gently inched from her hold and to his feet, pulling the blanket back up around her bare shoulders. He took his duffle bag from where it sat on the chair by her tall dresser and went into the bathroom, closing and locking all three doors before turning on the lights. He removed the Band-Aid from his neck and wrist, inspecting Damon's scabbed feeding bites only a moment before putting his attention elsewhere. He managed to track down a bag and tapped it over his cast and got into the shower; it was only a slight hindrance. His options were Jeremy's Body & Hair Wash or Elena's L’oriel fruity shampoo, he went fruity. When he stepped out from the shower, he dried first before removing the bag from his arm. Towel wrapped around his waist, he took out his toiletries kit that Bonnie had packed for him and carefully shaved the stubble from his face at the sink with his left hand. He dressed, styled his hair, and searched the counter drawers until he found a box of Band-Aids and covered the cause of his troubles.

By the time he quietly made his way back into Elena's room, the teenager was rolling over and slapping the alarm silent.

"Stefan," she said when she saw him standing on her right. She quickly looked to the side of the bed just to be sure. "You're up and dressed," she sat up, throwing her toned legs over the side. She carded her loose, long hair from her face.

"I snuck a shower," he set his duffle on the floor out of the way and walked around to the other side of the bed.

"Oh. I didn't hear you," Elena stood and stretched, her arms over her head. She went over to her tall dresser for some clothes before heading to the bathroom. "My turn then." The door clicked closed.

Stefan fed Salvatore. He massaged his right shoulder for a minute before he put his sling on. He hadn't taken one of the few remaining pain pills before he went to bed, and though he hadn't gotten much sleep, at least there were no more twisted doppelganger possessed nightmares to endure. He grabbed his satchel sitting by Elena's bag on the floor by her dressing table (the three of them had spent about two hours finishing their homework over the weekend when Bonnie had still been over) and his duffle and headed downstairs. He set them by the front door and made his way to the kitchen.

Jenna was already up, dressed, and there taking her first sip of caffeine from the freshly brewed pot. "Ah, morning, Stefan. You're up bright and early."

"Good morning, Jenna." He gave her a small smile. She stepped out of the way so he could take his own turn at the coffee pot. "I'm sorry about what happened with Andie." Stefan said.

"That was your brother, not you, Stefan."

Stefan internally grimaced, he wasn't entirely sure that was the truth. The timing of the break-up was just to coincidental in timing of other events to purely be happenstance on Damon's part. While Stefan didn't exactly approve of their relationship, he didn't want to be the reason of it termination, he didn't want to destroy his brother's relationships.

It was shortly after that Elena came downstairs, trailed by Jeremy, who grabbed coffee, poured himself a bowl of Lucky Charms and hunched over it as he ate. The others had various orders of eggs and toast. Soon after they were all out the door, (Stefan had almost been expecting to walk into an invisible barrier). Jenna off in her Mini Cooper, the rest in Elena's SUV after Stefan stowed his duffle in his Porche Coupe.

Stefan's gaze automatically searched for a white Tahoe as Elena navigated the busy school lot for a space despite it being student parking. Jeremy hopped out as soon as Elena put the SUV in park, slamming the door. It felt like his heart was still lodged at the base of his throat, making him feel ill.

Elena turned the vehicle off, unclipped her seat belt and looked over at him in the passenger seat. "You okay?"

"Great," Stefan unclipped his belt and got out of the car, shrugging the strap to his satchel up his left shoulder. He mentally scolded himself for feeling so agitated as they crossed the lot toward the front grounds.

Caroline was talking with a few of her cheerleaders when she spotted them and broke off toward the pair. "Hey, guys! You will not bel--!" she cut herself off with a small gasp as she saw Stefan's sling, he'd purposefully dressed in a dark button up to try and obscure it. "What happened, Stefan? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I broke it this weekend, it was stupid, really. Fell in the shower."

She pursed her pink, glossy lips into a frown. "I swear every time other time I see you, you're hurt. Sick in the hospital for a week, black-eyes, broken finger, now your arm? You need to be more careful, Stefan, seriously." She didn't even know the half of it.

"These things just happen sometimes, Caroline, you don't have to worry about me." Stefan assured her.

"Still," she uttered, looking him from head-to-toe as if to parse out the true depth of his words by a wrinkle in his clothes or a hair out of place. Good thing Stefan was so good at the ability to hide behind his neat appearance. "It's so sad to see someone so good-looking bruised and broken." And then she would say something like that.

"Caroline!" Elena exclaimed in an embarrassed and horrified hiss at her friend.

"What?" Caroline shrugged nonchalantly. "It's true." Stefan couldn't help but chuckle quietly.

"Yo, Salvatore!" was shouted at him and Stefan automatically turned to the source. "Catch!" his eyes widened at the object suddenly hurled toward his face, his left arm came up to either catch or block because he knew that if he ducked, Elena would get struck. His fingers tightened around ball leather.

Tyler gave a low wolf whistle, impressed, as he and Matt jogged over to the threesome. "Dude, that was awesome, you caught that single-handedly. You sure you don't want back on the te--Oh, shit, man!" he exclaimed as he saw the sling. "You broke your arm?"

"Of course his arm is broken!" Caroline ripped into the striker. "Don't you have eyes? Are you a caveman? You don't just throw things at people without warning!" she smacked at him.

"Hey, hey!" Tyler attempted to ward her off. "I obviously didn't see that, but he caught it so I don't know what you're freaking out about."

"Oh, is it eluding you?" Caroline said sarcastically. "What if he hadn't caught it?" she challenged.

"I'm sorry, alright?" he exclaimed at her. He looked at the brunette, "You good, Stefan?"

"Yeah," he handed the football back. "Have to admit that was a close one."

"You caught it like a pro," Tyler said. "Just like that first day, though I admit that one was meant embarrass you."

"Instead he made you look like an idiot," Matt chuckled.

"The thanks I get, that was for you, man." Tyler muttered.

"It's fine," Stefan said. "Water under the bridge."

"So, what happened?" Matt asked. "You were good Friday and then your brother came and got you."

"Just a little family emergency. I slipped in the shower."

"Man, 'suck' just follows you around, doesn't it, Salvatore?" Tyler said.

"Tell me about it," Stefan muttered.

"Didn't you have to bail spring break too because you got sick?"

"I don't think he meant that literally, Tyler." Elena pointed out.

"Morning," Bonnie caught up with them just as the morning warning bell rang.

"I broke my arm once," Tyler said, tossing the football from hand to hand as they all walked toward the front doors with the other students. "I was, like, 9. Sliding down the staircase banister in the front foyer, did not stick the landing on that one. My dad was super pissed."

Stefan had his own little array of watchdogs throughout the school day; Bonnie in Chemistry, Elena in Biology, group lunch, Matt in Social Studies. The anticipation of seeing Alaric was like a plague; subconsciously searching for the vampire amid the between-class rushes in the hallway, a casual replay of his history classroom walk-bys with no glory. He even flagged down Anders, who he recognized as one of Alaric's current students this semester and subtly asked about Mr Saltzman. Anders had already had first period with him. Alaric was there and ghosting Stefan. Last period Stefan had Auto. Shop but because his arm was in the sling, his teacher sent him to study hall for the period. It was the first time in his day that he was unsupervised, and Stefan went his locker instead, packed his back and left out a set of side doors.

Stefan crossed through the faculty parking lot and there Alaric's white Tahoe sat. He took a moment to let it slam home then left school property, his fingers clenched around the strap of his satchel over his shoulder. It was a 25 minute walk to the Gilbert residence. His red Porche Coupe sat lonely in the driveway. He unlocked the door and slid heavily into the driver's seat, throwing his bag to the passenger side. After a second he took off the sling, momentarily forgetting that his car was a manual. He clipped on his seatbelt and reached through the space in the steering wheel and slipped the key into the ignition. He checked his mirrors and backed out into the quiet residential street, shifting the clutch. He wasn't sure of his intended destination, just that he subconsciously put the town in his rear-view. His arm was like a dull ache he was aware of in the back of his brain, but it was his shoulder that caused him the most grief, sending sharp flares through the side of his neck when he wasn't quite ready for it.

Elena and Bonnie wouldn't realize his absence until after last period. By then he would probably already be wherever it was he was going. Stefan shifted up a gear and pressed his foot further on the gas. He could feel the hard fist in his chest growing. It felt like it was Christmas all over again. Damon pulling away, Alaric sleeping in a different bed. He'd gotten his cell phone back, it was a dead weight in his pocket. Just like Bonnie had said that first night, no calls, no messages, no texts from either his brother or his boyfriend. Damon wasn't the type to drunk dial and leave soppy voicemails begging for him to come back and talk. And Stefan hadn't even had the decency to shoot Alaric a text to say he made it to Elena's safe, so he deserved the silent treatment.

The only contact he'd been allowed was third person hearsay about Damon breaking-up with Andie. Was it just a coincidence in the timing or was it some plot point in Damon's master plan, knowing the information would eventually reach Stefan's ears... but to what end? Or maybe Damon really had left.

Stefan tried to blink back the stupid, pitiful tears from forming in his eyes, his left hand tightening on the wheel. He told the two people he loved most to go fuck themselves but he was the one that got fucked. It never seemed to matter what he tried to do, it always seemed to backfire horrendously onto him.

His choices had all set them on this path. He remembered the snarls, the sound of furniture breaking, the violent slam of bodies, the sounds of pain. Stefan did that to them. He remembered their friendly coexistence with his doppelganger. What was it about his own existence that was so toxic, that created such anger, hate, and violence in others?

He forced himself to pull over onto the side of the road on the dirt shoulder, swallowing convulsively against the sudden tightening in his throat.

It was Katherine's dream manipulation all over again. He was confusing dream with reality. But he couldn't _stop_ it. It was like crashing waves over him, knocking him down every time he tried to get up, knocking him senseless, leaving him blinded and unable to catch a breath.

All his fucking choices!

He never should have stopped taking their blood. He wouldn't have a broken arm now, a blue cast or a red cast would be immaterial.

He should have let Alaric help him with his nightmares instead of letting his fear make the decision for him.

He should have been stronger and not taken such relish in his retreat with his big brother.

Or maybe he should have been smarter than trying to throw himself off the roof. He should have just disappeared into the refuge of the deep, cold, black water from which he sprang on his third lot on life.

Stefan suddenly scrambled for the door release, struggling with it for a few precious seconds as the sudden nausea overwhelmed him before he managed to fling it open. Restricted by the seat belt, he hung out of the car as his sick spattered onto the ground. Even after he was done retching and his half-digested lunch of school cafeteria pizza was soaking into the dirt, he hung from the car, a string of saliva reaching toward the ground, tears blurring his vision as sobs chocked him.

_No_. He wasn't allowed those thoughts anymore. That was a choice no longer in his cards. His steady anxiety was causing him to regress. He couldn't let it. He groaned quietly and pushed himself back upright in the seat with a grunt, closing the door. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, rested his head back and closed his eyes. The only sound was the engine idling and his breathing.

He breathed through it.

He shifted into drive and pulled a U-turn, back wheels spraying dirt and headed back into town.

He had initiated this separation, he was going to stand by it no matter how guilty it made him feel like he was pushing them away, but it was time to close the distance again. Alaric didn't get to live-ghost him and if Damon thought he could pull some clever pseudo-psycho shit, they were both out of luck.

Stefan was closing the distance fast.

He drove back into town. The car bumped lightly as he pulled into the apartment parking lot, pulling into the marked visitor space. He grabbed the sling from the passenger seat, locked the car up and trudged up several flights of stairs to the third floor. He stopped at apartment 9 and quickly inserted the gifted key on his ring into the lock. He slipped inside and closed the door quickly but quietly behind him, turning the deadbolt again.

Stefan exhaled and turned into the loft, tossing his sling onto the tall bureau. It was dingy, the windows closed and air still, the curtains pulled closed against the sun but for a strip of sunlight through a small gap. He could see the dust particles floating in the beam. Stefan frowned. Alaric's place was typically cluttered, research, work, a discarded piece of clothing here or there, but now there were empty whiskey bottles, takeout containers, haphazardly discarded blood bags that stank, dirty dishes filling the kitchen sink. He automatically started tidying, and just after five minutes of gathering all the empties and trashing takeout and spent blood bags, the place seemed 60% more liveable.

He guzzled and gargled a glass of tall water, surprisingly found a bottle still almost half filled with amber liquid and took it with him over to the couch. He grabbed the lone, old Boston Bruins throw pillow and sprawled across half the worn couch, propped up in the corner of the arm facing towards the door, the pillow tucked against his side to support his arm. He took his first swig of bourbon and began his vigil of wait. Time went, the level in the bottle grew lower and so did his chin to his chest.

The doorknob rattle and HE jolted to wakefulness. He must have dozed. He sat up and set the bottle on the low table as the apartment door opened then closed. The darkened figure stepped further into the loft, the long beam of sunlight that reached across the open floor fell across their black biker boot.

"Damon," Stefan swallowed. He stood quickly, his calves braced back against the edge of the couch in support he needed that had nothing to do with the previously consumed alcohol.

"Brother," Damon replied. "Expecting someone else?"

"Obviously," Stefan muttered, his gaze glued to his brother's figure but because of their positions, he couldn't see him clearly. He dropped the throw pillow he still clutched and stepped around the low table. "Are you okay? I was--"

"You were what?" Damon interrupted. "Too busy eating dinner, playing board games and having a little sleepover with your girlfriends to come and actually see for yourself?"

Stefan shook his head, stepping closer. "No, Damon. That's not--"

"Isn't it?"

"Damon, I'm sorry." Stefan pleaded. "It's not what you think--!"

Damon moved in a blur, grabbing him and pushing him back against the breakfast bar. "You left me, Stefan. You sent your little witch to pack your shit and your damn fish and you left. You're a weak coward, what else is there for me to think, brother? I needed you and you left me, and then you come crawling back to the Teacher first. But do tell me what I'm supposed to think," he growled, fingers digging with bruising force into Stefan's biceps. Stefan winced and swallowed against the hard lump in his throat, but it wasn't the physical pain that made tears prick in his eyes as he looked into his brother's angry, hurt, and desperate blue eyes. "I came to you," Damon continued. "I tried to reach out to you with my Power, but you didn't answer, Stefan!"

"I didn't know!" he cried out. "Bonnie put a barrier on the house, Damon. I swear if I had known..."

"And what about now, brother, now you know?" Damon challenged, the shadow of veins pulsing under his eyes. He released Stefan's arms and stepped back.

Stefan lunged forward without a second hesitation, his arms wrapping tightly around his still brother, clinging desperately. "I'm sorry, Damon. Please. You broke up with Andie, I thought you left. I was so scared. I didn't mean to do this to you. I know how hungry you must be. You need my blood, you can have it. It's yours, I promise." He whispered.

"I broke up with her for you."

"What?" Stefan started to pull back in surprise but Damon's arms wrapped around him and kept him close, Stefan's cheek on his shoulder.

Damon pulled his collar down out of the way. "I hurt you last time," Stefan felt Damon's breath on the right side of his throat. "I won't this time."

Stefan's arms tightened around him in response. He felt his brother's lips brush against his jugular, then the sharp pain of his fangs—and started awake as his cell rang, the bourbon bottle clattering to the floor. He was disoriented for a moment, could still smell Damon, feel his arms around him, mouth on his throat. He fished his phone from his pocket.

"I'm fine." Stefan answered.

"Where the hell are you, Stefan? Don't make me do a locater spell." Bonnie warned.

"I'm fine." Stefan repeated. "I'll tell you where I am, but I don't want you and Elena rushing over here."

"If your at the Boarding House--"

"I'm not. I'm waiting for Ric in his apartment. He avoided me all day at school, fine, but he'd not going to avoid me here.

Bonnie sighed and was quiet for a long minute. "When we couldn't find you I thought--"

"I'm fine." Stefan promised. "I'll call you guys later, okay?"

"Okay."

Stefan put his cell on the low coffee table and scrubbed his hand over his face with a heavy exhale. That dream... had been so _real_. He threw himself at Damon, gave himself without a moment hesitation. He didn't think that was anything new, especially where Damon was concerned, but maybe Stefan should be concerned. And he didn't even want to delve into the emotion that blossomed when Dream Damon said he broke up with Andie for him.

Stefan dropped his hand and reached down for the dropped bourbon bottle, cursing softly as he felt the slopped alcohol on the floorboard when he picked it up. He stood, put the bottle with the other gathered empties and found a thinning roll of paper towel, wetting some under the tap. He turned the lamp on to see better with and got onto his knees. He was mopping it up when he heard the key in the door and he almost perked up like a meerkat.

Stefan sat back on his heels and watched Alaric step in and pushed the door closed behind him without turning.

"Stefan," Alaric whispered.

"Hey," he breathed. Stefan slowly pushed himself to his feet and they stared across the distance at each other, drinking the sight of the other in.

"Sorry about the mess." He said, dropping his soft leather briefcase on the floor by the door, carefully moving forward to close a few feet between them. "I haven't really been in the mood for cleaning."

"It's fine. I drank the last of your bourbon."

"Stefan..." he started, it sounded like disapproval, his gaze flickering to his big red arm.

"You avoided me like I was the plague at school." Stefan said. "You didn't even avoid me that efficiently when you found out you slept with one of your students."

"I wasn't ready to see you and not be able to do what I wanted to do, say what I wanted." Alaric told him, picking up Stefan's sling from the tall bureau.

Stefan licked his lips. "Do what? Say what?"

"How are you?"

"Okay." Stefan replied. "Now say something real."

Alaric clenched the sling in his fist. "Alright. I'm angry. At you, myself. Damon." He gave his head a shake and looked across at Stefan. "You want me to be yours, only yours... but I can't want you to be only mine?"

Stefan's brow puckered. "Of course not--"

"But?" he challenged.

Stefan's left hand fisted, nails biting into his palm. "I don't want you to fall in love with my doppelganger, there's a difference. Damon's my brother. I'm not cheating on you with him, it's a different kind of love."

"Then I wouldn't be cheating on you," Alaric returned heatedly in a flare of anger and spitefulness, "You're the same person!"

Stefan stumbled back a step like he'd been physically struck, like a hole was punched through his chest, all colour draining from him. Alaric's eyes widened in horror as he realized what he said in his anger. He stepped forward and reached out, "Stefan--"

"Don't touch me," Stefan said coldly and turned his back on the vampire. He hugged his red cast to his chest, shoulders slightly hunched as he panted lightly. "We're not the same. We're different people. He doesn't get to have my life." His shoulders straightened and his upper lip stiffened. "I have no problem killing myself," Stefan uttered and Alaric flinched. "You think I'll have a problem killing _him_? He doesn't get to have you, either of you, _any_ of you. You're **mine**." Stefan turned back around. "You're _mine_ , Ric, not his." Alaric almost found the anger and possession in his expression frightening. Had Stefan been seeing that same in him? "I want you to tell me."

"Yes," Alaric agreed freely. He stepped closer, cupping Stefan's face. "I'm _yours_ , Stefan. Only yours." Alaric pulled him to his chest and dropped the sling, hand cupping the back of his head. "I love you, Stef. I'm so sorry I said that to you, I didn't mean it. I don't believe it, you have to know that." He pressed his face into Stefan's hair, breathing him in. He smelled like Elena. His arm tightened around his back. "I was angry, please forgive me."

Stefan pressed his face into Alaric's collarbone for a moment, letting himself miss it before his left hand found Alaric's hip, he pushed. Alaric reluctantly released him. "I'm not upset because my arm got broken—I know bruises and broken bones—but you and Damon fighting over who gets the feeding rights over my blood..." Stefan shook his head. "You don't get to dictate that—I do. It's **my** blood. I get to say who drinks it, who I _let_ drink it."

"You were a vampire for 145 years, you know what blood does to a vampire better than anyone else. You know what blood _means_ to a vampire. Choosing to be with someone, sharing yourself completely."

"You're right, I do know," Stefan agreed passionately. "I've been where you are, I know what's it's like. And this, right now, is one of the first trials you'll face as a vampire and it won't be the last. Your emotions are overwhelming you and they just feed off each other, keeping you in an continued state of a heightened, short-fused powder keg of emotional imbalance."

Alaric scoffed. "So you’re saying none of it’s real."

"No, I'm not." Stefan laid his hand gently on Alaric’s chest, looking at him earnestly, imploring. "What you feel is real, just magnified. You just need to realize what the true level of your emotion from the grandeur dressing of the vampirism, otherwise everything is just going to jumble up and feed into your anger." Alaric put his right hand over Stefan's on his chest and breathed deeply, continuing to look at the brunette. "I love you, Ric, and it's not my intention to hurt you when I say I love Damon." Stefan turned his hand over and Alaric's fingers curled around his against his chest. Stefan looked at their hands, felt Alaric's palm against his. He wanted to squeeze and never let go. Wished that he could know everything was going to be alright in the end, but that wasn't the way life worked. You didn't know—wouldn't until it all finally happened. Breath loud in his ears, Stefan squeezed back, shifting his hold further so that their fingers interlaced.

"You're right," Alaric whispered, afraid to speak any louder and shatter the fragility holding them together. "I'm angry and I'm jealous. I want all of you and I want it to myself. I don't want to share you with Damon. I'm jealous of your love with Damon—your relationship." It was hard to admit he was jealous of anything involving the raven-haired vampire. "It's just a big tangled fucking mess."

"He's my _brother_ ," Stefan whispered back. "You don't need to be jealous, I love Damon but I _love_ **and** _lust_ for you. It's your lips I want on my skin. Your taste on my tongue. The prickle of your stubble. It's you who I want to touch me and have deep inside me. Hold my hand, hold _me._ I want to fall asleep in your arms and wake up to your kisses. _You_ , Ric. Not Damon. It was _your_ fangs that pierced my skin first, yours."

Alaric swallowed. "I guess that's one thing I can always have over your brother."

Stefan couldn't help but frown disapprovingly at his boyfriend. "It's not a competition, Ric."

Alaric cupped his cheek with his left hand. "It will always be a competition between us, Stefan. We're vampires, like it or not, you're the human between us that we both want. It's sad but the truth."

"Well, when I turn again that won't be a problem anymore." Stefan declared definitively.

Alaric stroked his cheek. "Blood is only the half of it," he said softly.

Stefan didn't respond, just leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of Alaric's neck.

It was always about blood.

_**~ T V D ~** _

Stefan's senses were on high alert as his boots crunched loudly on the gravel as he made his way to the Boarding House front door, settling his arm back into the sling. Everything was so quiet and still, it left Stefan on the edge of his fine hairs standing on end. Damon's powder blue Chevy Camaro convertible sat in the drive, as forlorn as Stefan's Porche Coupe had looked in the Gilbert driveway. The atmosphere seemed to exude capricious presence as he mounted the steps or maybe that was his own anxiety projecting.

He only let himself pause for a second before he exhaled, opened the thick oak door and stepped into the Boarding House. He closed it quietly behind him. It was even more still and quiet in the house than the outside environment had, at least outside the sun had been there. In here it was dark and dim, the corners and ceiling holding black shadows. He slowly stepped further into the large house. All the thick curtains in the parlor were pulled closed, the fireplace held cold ash. He was moving around virtually blind even after his human eyes adjusted from the sun to the darkness, but he knew the rest of his home blind as he did his own bedroom, so unless Damon decided to do a renovation this weekend...

Stefan was more afraid to turn any lights on than he was to walk around in the dark, afraid to call out to his brother and disrupt the silence. A sort of fragility hung in the still air anxious not to be the one that shattered it. Or maybe he was just giving himself another out like the window. He scolded himself for his continued cowardice. He confronted Alaric, he could confront his own brother. He reached out, left fingertips brushing the wall's wood panelling as he searched for the pesky location of the main corridor light switch.

He found the boarder but before he could turn the dial, he registered the soft thump behind him, the downward draft of air coming down from above him. A pale hand reached over his shoulder and cupped under his chin, pulling him back against a familiar chest and away from the light switch.

"Hello, brother." Damon whispered in his ear.

[...tbc...]

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I think I gave Caroline her first 'seriously' in this chapter. I feel like Caroline's seriouslys in The Vampire Diaries might be equivalent to Steve McGarrett's "Book 'im, Danno!"'s in Hawaii Five-0.**


	31. CHAPTER 30

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

"Damon," Stefan breathed out. He didn't try and struggle against him; right now he just felt the relief that his brother was still _here_.

"Expecting someone else?"

_Déjà vu_. "No," Stefan answered, mentally shaking himself from his earlier dream. "I was worried you left town."

"Not worried enough to come running." Stefan swallowed. Damon was right, he could have tried harder. "Where are your back-up dancers, brother? They bringing the moving truck?"

"No, no." Stefan denied instantly. "It was only for the weekend, Damon, I swear. I wouldn't leave, I would never leave."

"Your witchy manager seemed of a different opinion."

"Bonnie shouldn't have done that," Stefan said. "That wasn't what I wanted. I know you would have taken care of Salvatore. She said..."

"Oh, did she tell you her dirty little fantasy come true?" he taunted quietly. "How she fried my brain, put me on my knees." His thumb stroked the side of Stefan's throat, the pad of his thumb teasing the sensitive skin at the edge of the Band-Aid. "Then snapped my neck without even touching me, left me there on the floor. Heh. Very reminiscent of John, hm, brother?"

Stefan squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "Please don't compare Bonnie to John, she's the only reason I made it out of there alive."

It had been a fight to be able to come to the Boarding House—to come to Damon alone. It was like hacking through dense jungle foliage with a dull machete because his vindications of Damon didn't appear to hold the same value in their hearts as they did in his own.

After Stefan had settled things down with Alaric, he called Bonnie and Elena as he had promised on speaker phone and filled them in on his next intention: Damon. He had expected nothing else other than the vehement denials and protests he got on all sides. He knew why Alaric was resistant despite their recent conversation, but it wasn't particularly about the blood per se. The dirty-blond vampire had admitted to a single, short 'meeting' with Damon at the Grill early Saturday and that he had seemed pretty... himself, even having snacked on a couple teenagers beforehand. That drew disapproval from the girls but Stefan shot Alaric a censorious frown, knowing exactly what his boyfriend was trying to do with the backhanded comment but Stefan saw it as a good sign; if Damon was feeding again, maybe Stefan's blood had fixed what it needed to. But that had been 2 days ago and the only sighting after that had been Andie. Damon wouldn't just disappear like that unless something was wrong.

Bonnie was a much harder sell than Ric. She still wanted him nowhere near Damon alone without her. But Stefan hadn't given her a choice. She got her weekend with separation and it would only turn volatile if Stefan found Damon with an entourage that seemed to want his blood more than his peace. At least Elena seemed to be a bit softer on Damon, a little more trusting of his big brother than the others after what had happened, and even after the things he had done that had effected her directly. Stefan thought she was more comfortable with Damon than she was with Alaric, but that was also because he wasn't sleeping with Damon.

Damon was his brother and he loved him. Stefan had long since understood the difference between pain influenced by malicious intent and pain stricken out in anguish; it was what differentiated Giuseppe and Damon.

None of them had lived through what the Salvatore Brothers had, they couldn't understand. What they needed to know was that Stefan wanted his big brother and Stefan was going to get his big brother; there was already proof in his past just how far he was willing to go, how far he was willing to overstep the lines of morality to keep his brother. They just needed to accept that and get out of his way.

Damon's thumbnail caught the edge of the Band-Aid and slowly peeled the adhesive back from the skin.

"Damon,"

"What?"

Stefan's left hand reached up and he stilled Damon's. "Can we please talk?" Stefan asked.

"That's the definition of what we're doing." Damon pulled Stefan around to face him.

"Can I please turn on the light so I can see you?"

"What, forget what I look like already?" he snarked. Damon could see his brotherly clearly in the dark with his sharp vampire eyesight; despite their close proximity of a couple feet, Stefan hardly make out his pale, blurry form.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Stefan protested. Damon could transmit anything he wanted through his voice, like health, even if he wasn't actually healthy. It was a learned skill from their youth that they had both developed to varying degrees; clothing back then was very concealing, often the only skin showing on men was the face and hand, so after a round of father's drunken-anger or simply anger the appearance of injury was swathed beneath several layers of clothing and it was just a performance to conceal the outward pain and fear from visitors of the house. But the brothers always knew better than the act and Stefan knew if he could just see, the he would just know. He needed to know because of the things Damon wasn't saying.

Of course, that wasn't good enough for Damon.

"Enough talk, I'm fucking starving here." Damon cupped his nape, and face angled, started to lean forward.

"Ric mentioned that you fed from a couple teenagers on Saturday." Stefan said.

Damon paused. "Oh, I bet he couldn't wait to tell you that," he sneered. But Stefan surprised him, instead of garnering disapproval he was faced with forest green eyes filled with tentative hope.

"But that's good. You fed."

"You think if it was all good I'd be holed up in here like The Beast instead of like Beauty?" Damon sneered in challenge.

Stefan's thick brows furrowed for a moment before his eyes widened briefly as the context of the reference clicked. His left hand reached up to the pale shape in front of him, warm fingers touched cold skin, brushed down Damon's cheek over engorged veins.

Damon grabbed his wrist and pulled it down before Stefan's fingers could reach his mouth. "Alright. Stop stroking me."

Stefan didn't retort with the childish comeback of 'You started it,' and responded instead: "How long has your face been stuck like this?" his brow creased with worry.

Stefan could practically hear the eye roll. "Take a guess," was the sarcastic reply. Still cupping his brother's nape, Damon leaned forward and closed the short distance, the tip of his nose brushing Stefan's. He gently exhaled. "Smell that? Soured blood. I've tried feeding; Happy Meals, Juice Boxes... I can't keep it down, Stefan. My veins are so dried out, if I move too fast I might burst into flames from the friction. Don't you get it, brother? I've been slowly desiccating the entire weekend while you were at your little sleepover. I needed your blood."

"What the hell, Damon?" Stefan cried out in angry demand. "Why didn't you call, why didn't you say something?"

Damon scoffed. "Would you have even answered?"

Stefan's breath caught in his throat. "I couldn't," he uttered, shame and guilt flooding his chest. "I didn't have my phone."

Damon's hand reached down and easily slipped Stefan’s cell phone from his jeans. "This phone, you mean?" he stepped forward, backing the brunette up with his invading presence until Stefan back hit the doorjamb to the parlor, the light switch on the wall digging uncomfortably into his right shoulder blade, making him grimace.

"I didn't get it back until this morning." Stefan defended himself feebly.

Damon gave a quiet, derisive bark, dropping the phone to the floor. "Whatever you say, brother."

"Damon, please, I'm worried about you." Stefan pleaded. "I know how hungry you must be but we should wait for Bonnie..." he tried.

"What does she know about vampires? She's been a witch for 10 minutes."

"Just let her look at your aura, she'll know how to fix this."

"I already know how to fix this, Stefan." Damon sneered slightly. "I don't need some snot-nosed witch to tell me what I already know—I need your blood, baby, simple as that." He grasped either side of Stefan's head and said intensely, "You can never trust a Bennett witch, Stefan, haven't you figured that out yet? They're sneaky, judgy little things, always with their secrets and their own agendas. Bonnie's the same as the rest of them."

"Damon, what are you talking about?" Stefan asked in scared confusion.

"Emily, Lucy, Bonnie... over and over they try to steal you away from me. I won't let her take you away from me again." Damon's breath was harsh against his face.

"Damon," Stefan uttered gently. His left hand reached up, and cupped his brother's jaw. "I'm here. No one is taking me away, I promise." He tipped his head forward, forehead bumping against Damon. "I won't leave you."

Damon pressed back, fingers flexing in the brunette's hair at the back of his head. "Is that a promise, little brother?"

Stefan swallowed, remembered his dream while waiting at Alaric's. _"You left me, Stefan. You sent your little witch to pack your shit and your damn fish and you left."_ It felt like a foreshadowing of this moment, premonitory. He knew it would probably be a bad idea to make declarations, give in to his brother's whim so fast. They needed Bonnie, but this wasn't about the blood, this right here, right now, this instant in time was about family. "I promise," Stefan breathed.

Damon didn't voice his response but seemed a little less pent against him at the answer. His right hand pulled Stefan's down again. Hand cupping his throat, Damon's thumb started to stroke again. No, it started to rub, dragging the pad roughly against the healing scabs of his previous feeding bite.

Stefan grimaced at the sting as the scabs were pulled off before they was ready. "What are you doing?" he tried to pull away but he was between a wall and Damon.

Stefan could feel the small swell of blood from the disturbed puncture marks slowly start to trail down his throat as they were defeated by their weight and gravity. The electric sconces that lined the hall switched on; he must have done it with his squirming against the light switch. Stefan got only a second long look of Damon in the light before the vampire leaned forward and licked the trailing blood from his throat. Stefan's left hand fisted the material of Damon's shirt at his flank; he didn't push his brother away but instead clung as the vampire licked over the wound, enticing a stronger bleed.

Instead of flawless pale skin and a familiar true-face, Stefan's blinded gaze had been meet with marbleized skin. The engorged veins under Damon's eyes thin like thread, barely any colouring of blood through them, his flushed sclera nothing more than a thin shade of red that made him look like he had pinkeye instead, and a mouth without fang.

"Where are your fangs, Damon?"

"They'll come in a minute. I need more blood." Damon wrapped his lips around the reopened feeding bite, sucking. His flat teeth, biting and pressing around the wound to encourage the blood to the surface. The pain in his gums was sharp, the only time he could recall in ever being that painful was when he first completed his transition into vampire and his fangs came in. "Mn." Damon gave a small grunt as his fangs finally descended at the enticement of Stefan's blood and he gave a small sigh of relief—right before he sunk his glorious fangs into his baby brother’s neck.

"Ah." Stefan hissed at the pain with no warning, Damon's bite a bit rough and desperate, which Stefan understood and couldn't blame him just like before at Shadowland Vortex. This time seemed even more dire than before, not just the hunger but the physical condition to Damon's body. Stefan could only think to liken it to his own body's response when he'd gotten too much vampire blood for the first time since he had been turned human. And that was too much of a frightening thought and his left arm shifted more into an embracing persona.

Fingers palming the opposite side of Stefan's head, fingers in his hair, Damon cocked Stefan's head just-so, extending his neck just a smidge and instantly Damon got a cleaner flow of blood. It was like taking a hit, he felt almost dizzy with it. He drank deeply, hold on his brother instinctively tightening, holding the source close.

Stefan remembered his dream, remembered how Damon held him, _hugged_ him and he couldn't help but lean into his brother a bit more now than was probably strictly necessary at the moment, taking his own advantage while the vampire fed. If he closed his eyes and didn't pay enough attention, it even felt a little bit normal—in hindsight it was probably a minor mistake on his part. He'd lost time, count of how much Damon was taking, but he felt he was already holding up better than Friday night despite carrying an injury now. Maybe with Alaric feeding from him all this time as a human had helped build up his tolerance to the behaviour? He was conflicted as to whether that was a good thing or just a scary thing, probably both and the former in the long run.

It was hard for Damon not to get lost in the feed. It had been more than 48 hours since he'd last drunken Stefan's blood, and that had been the last he'd seemed to be able to keep anything down. Rick and his girlfriend in the alley only lasted long enough for him to make it back to the Grill's own alley. It was so nourishing to finally get that desperately needed alcohol, revitalizing him. His parched veins soaked up Stefan's hot blood like sponge and he felt his Power surge and reawaken, his marbleized skin smoothing out.

All the elements catered to his predatory inclinations, his feeding instincts firing on all cylinders again with the feel of a living warm body in his hold, against him; the sound of a beating heart filling his head, almost reverberating through his undead body; the pulse against his lips and tongue; hell, even the familiar scent of his brother and... _is that Elena's scent?_ that was eliciting something else entirely in him.

It was a struggle to not get enticed into a frenzy as blood kept gushing into his mouth despite having retracted his fangs and the only thing he could do was swallow. He must have torn the artery when he bit, missing the reopened punctures with his fangs in his haste of hunger.

Stefan quickly grew heavy against him, listless. Damon jostled him.

"What?" Stefan mumbled against his hair. "Are you done?" he tried to pull back but Damon's hand tightened in his hair and on his back, keeping his still. "OK, OK, not done."

Mouth still pressed over Stefan's neck, Damon gulped and quickly pierced his tongue to pressed against the fang wounds before Stefan's blood could fill his mouth again.

_It's okay_ , Stefan said or at least he thought he did. _There's no hurry, I promised, didn't I?_ The hand fisted in the back of Damon's shirt was more muscle memory than it was of conscious strength.

After a moment Damon lifted his tongue, the bleeding seemed to have stopped but he could still feel the wounds in his skin. He finally lifted his mouth from Stefan's throat, licking the blood from his maw as he inspected the feeding wound with keen sight as the vibrant, dark blood flush receded from his sclera; true to feel, the feeding bite was still present. Damon tilted Stefan's head back to get a look at his baby brother.

Stefan stared back at him for a moment before he said, "Your face."

Damon's black brow quirked. "You have such a way with words, brother."

"You're pretty again," Stefan smiled. "Is that better?"

"I can think of a few different adjectives that I'd prefer." He said drily.

"You're still pretty, deal with it."

Damon just rolled his eyes. "Come on." Arm around Stefan's waist, the healthy vampire led him down the step into the darkened parlor, depositing him heavily on the couch. "Don't go anywhere." Damon ordered with a miniscule smirk before vanishing.

"Uh-uh, right." Stefan gave no protest and slumped back, eyes slipping closed. He was a bit lethargic from the blood loss and he had a headache. Trying to get more comfortable, it took him a few tries to kick off his buckle boots, their landing muffled on the Persian rug that dominated the sitting area. The strap to his sling was pulling at the tender skin on the left side of his throat and he pulled at it before settling again, head laid against the back of the couch.

"Wakey-wakey." Stefan jolted at the sharp pat on his cheek and he glowered at his looming brother through the now present crackling glow of the lit fireplace.

"I wasn't asleep, I was just resting."

"Sure, sure." Damon straightened and took a swallow from the present bourbon tumbler in his hand. "Drink?"

Stefan frowned. "I don't think alcohol is a good idea right now."

"Really?" Damon mocked him. His normal expression resumed. "I was talking about this," and he held out an tall drinking glass of orange juice.

"Oh," Stefan remarked dumbly. "Thanks," He sat up with a quiet grunt and took the glass, taking a large gulp of sweet juice with his parched throat.

"This, too." He produced a small saucer with a sliced sandwich on it and set it in his lap.

"Orange juice and peanut butter don't go," Stefan comment, taking another drink.

"Just eat it," Damon ordered.

Stefan handed the half-drunk glass back to his brother and picked up a cut triangle of sandwich. He gave a tiny smirk, "Is the secret ingredient love?"

"Not even remotely close."

Stefan took a bite. "You even put honey on it," Stefan noted, pleased. There was banana slices, too. "Definitely love in here," he disagreed.

"Gotta keep my food source happy and plump," was Damon's counter.

"Sure, sure." Stefan finished off the triangle and picked up a new one. He regarded his brother more seriously as he chewed though, keen gaze taking in every inch of him. He swallowed before he let himself ask the question, "Are you really okay, Damon? Do you--"

Damon held up a hand and stopped his line of questioning. "I'm alright, Stefan. Keep eating." He set his brother's orange juice within easy reach. Stefan's gaze tracked him as he continued to eat the sandwich. Damon drained his own glass and set it on the sideboard with the waiting decanters before leaving the parlor. He was only gone a minute before returning, a small kit tucked under one arm, Stefan's cell phone in the other. "Someone's Mr Popular today. Your phone's been blowing up with texts. The latest:

" **Stefan u OK?**

" **why aren't u answering?**

" **did big bad Damon drain u dry?**

"I may have paraphrased that last one," he quipped. He tossed the cell into Stefan's lap and set the empty saucer aside. Damon sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of the brunette and unzipped the first aid in his lap as Stefan checked his messages and thumbed out a reply.

"If everyone comes over, will you behave?"

"This is my house, I'll act how I feel like and they can accept it or fuck off. You _my_ baby brother, _I_ take care of you and they can all go to hell with their sanctimonious bullshit." Damon turned Stefan's chin to the right and cleaned the side of his neck of blood. The fang wounds were a bit larger and messier with the overlapping, but they appeared at least 2 weeks into healing instead of just 4 days because of his vampire blood. He pressed a new Band-Aid over it. Just like Stefan hadn't told him about the macarons, Stefan didn't need to know about this.

Stefan watched his brother. "I told them something similar earlier, but 80% more civilized and 70% less crass."

"Telling people to 'put it where the sun don't shine' like a gentlemen, sounds like the Saintly Stefan I know."

"And love," Stefan added.

"Clearly you're still light-headed from the blood loss," Damon remarked. "Finish your juice like a good boy, huh?" he held out the glass.

Stefan took the glass, resting it on the top of his knee, slowing turning it, leaving a wet ring of condensation darkening the jean. "Damon, can we please talk serious for a minute?"

"I am serious. Drink the juice, Stefan." Damon said. Stefan sighed but drank. "I'm sure there'll be plenty of 'serious talk' when the Damon Haters arrive."

Stefan frowned and started "They don--" but Damon pushed the glass back to his mouth, cutting him off. "They'll be here soon." He said after draining the glass.

"Right," Damon scoffed. "Like they haven't been waiting in the wings this entire time waiting to swarm in like a bunch of yapping Chihuahuas."

"Damon, they're my friends and--"

"I don't care what you think they are, Stefan." Damon surged forward from the coffee table, curled close over his brother, forcing Stefan back against the back of the couch, their faces centimetres apart. "The last person who took you away from me, remember what I did, brother? I ripped her heart out and tore off her head." Shadows of veins pulsed under his eyes on pale skin with his surge of emotion.

"And Bonnie helped you do that," Stefan whispered in reminder.

"A Bennett also helped kidnap you," Damon hissed. "I'm done being fooled by beautiful women."

"Katherine wasn't your fault, Damon." Stefan said firmly and earnestly. "Either time."

Something flickered in Damon's blue gaze. "You're too old to be this naive, baby brother."

Stefan's brow puckered. Could he sense some sort of double meaning behind his brother's words, a pointed remark? But when he tried to search his gaze, Damon pulled back and straightened, going over to the sideboard. Did Damon know about Meredith? But he couldn't, if he did he already would have done something and he wouldn't make the same mistake he did with John. No, he was just reading into things, being paranoid.

Damon could hear to vehicles in the drive, Alaric's Tahoe and Bonnie's Prius. "Your friends are here, brother." He threw back a shot of bourbon and exhaled. "Let the inquisition began, and I'm sure the verdict of execution to follow." The lip of the decanter clinked against the tumbler as he refilled.

Stefan sighed and levered himself onto his feet. "Please, stop exaggerating. I won't let them hurt you." He fixed his sling strap back over his folded shirt collar, clearing his throat and running a hand over his lower face.

Damon watched him with a little smirk curled at the corner of his lips. "You seem nervous and a little awkward, brother, touching yourself up like I'd just ravished you." He teased, stepping closer.

Stefan pursed his lips and raised his chin, meeting his brother's gaze. "You certainly tried to do something with your tongue." He said drily.

Damon licked his lips a little too slow to even be considered innocent. He slung an arm around Stefan's shoulder and pulled him close. He whispered in his ear, nose in his hair that smelled like Elena, lips brushing the shell of his ear, sending an involuntary shiver through the brunette. "Don't tell me you didn't appreciate my tongue work,"

"Don't be gross." Stefan couldn’t stop the snigger and Damon grinned.

Damon turned his head to regard the odd and tense trio in the parlor entryway. "Oh, oh." He stopped them from saying anything, dropping his arm from Stefan's shoulder. "Let me guess your first question." He pretended to mull it over for a second.

"D--"

"Uh-uh." He snapped his fingers and pointed. "'Are you okay, Stefan?' It's a little over done, don't you think? I'm mean, it'll be a pretty chilly day in Hell before 'Are you okay, Damon?' is ever the first thing out of someone's mouth here."

But Elena frowned, her brown gaze probing him as she stepped down into the parlor. " _Are_ you okay, Damon? Stefan was really worried but you look pretty good."

"Elena, it touches me that you even asked." Damon put a dramatic hand over his heart. "And I will just accurately take that as you noticing my bad hotness."

She crossed her arms and glared. "That wasn't what I meant and you know it."

"Now I'm just hurt," he pouted at the doppelganger.

"That's because he just fed," Alaric cut in, moving passed Elena to Stefan, thumb rubbing at the little blood that had soaked into the edge of the sling's white strap at Stefan's neck.

Bonnie was clearly not happy at the revelation. "You shouldn't have done that, Stefan. You should have waited for me."

"My brother was desiccating, Bonnie!" Stefan snapped at the witch, pulling Alaric's hand away. Elena gasped slightly in shock. "Waiting didn't even account into it."

Bonnie turned a glare on Damon like it was all his fault.

"You don't have the right to judge me, witch." Damon hissed, pointing at her with the hand holding his tumbler. "And if you think I'm going to just sit idly by as you try to steal my brother again, you've got another thing coming. His name is Salvatore, not Bennett, so you and your fucking family can keep your magic to yourself."

Bonnie squared her shoulders as she faced him, not afraid of a face-off with the 169 year old vampire. "Bennett Magic is the only reason he's even alive. How many times has he been hurt or died in your care, _big brother Salvatore_?"

The tumbler shattered in Damon hand, making Elena jump. He literally shook with his fury, sclera flushing red as he growled at her.

"Enough!" Stefan shouted, glaring in anger between the two, not afraid to get in-between a infuriated vampire and witch combo as he had been getting between 2 vampires. "I'm sick of the fighting. So if you want to, fine, but know I won't sticking around to watch." He waited a pointed moment, before turning to his brother.

"Stefan, the glass." Alaric warned.

"I know, I see it." There was glass, bourbon, and blood staining the carpet. Stefan cupped the back of Damon's right hand, carefully folding his fingers straight with his thumb. "Jesus, Damon, you're bleeding all over the place." Damon's palm was dripping blood, the flesh imbedded with shards of glass from the tumbler. It was sad to say this wasn't a new sight for Stefan. "Elena, can you--"

"I'll grab something to clean it up," she agreed and ran off to the kitchen.

"Hold still," Stefan ordered and Damon actually obeyed. Releasing his hand, Stefan carefully plucked the sharps of glass from Damon's palm, briefly reopening the cuts as he tore the healed skin around the glass.

Damon looked back at the witch over Stefan's bowed brunette head. Bonnie scoffed, crossed her arms and turned away from the vampire in disgust. Alaric met her gazing briefly, knowingly. It was the same superior, smug look in his ice blue eyes that Damon had when Stefan offered his wrist a few days ago in the hall.

Elena came back, a roll of paper towel under her arm, a plastic bag and a wet cloth. "I couldn't find--"

"The hallway closet." Damon told her. "There should be a Dirt Devil and stain remover foam with the built-in brush."

"Alright." She held open the plastic bag for him and he upended his palm and the small bloody pile of shards Stefan had stacked up. She handed him the cloth and set the other things down and headed back into the hall.

"I think that's all of them," Stefan muttered.

Damon cleaned the blood from his hand with the cloth and showed his brother his healed palm, wiggling his fingers. Stefan smacked his hand away with a frown before squatting and gathering the larger pieces in the plastic bag. Elena returned with the acquired items and was about to help Stefan when Damon took the hand-held Dirt Devil from her.

"Here."

"Oh. Okay." And she really had no other option then to _stare_ as Damon Salvatore vacuumed the rug like he actually knew what he was doing, before trading up for the foam.

Elena held out her hand to Stefan and pulled the teen to his feet. "Thank you, Elena." He said pointedly, cutting a look at his brother.

"What, want me to carry you to the couch again, brother?" Damon teased, making to swoop forward.

"No!" Stefan jumped back with some embarrassment. "Can we all just please deal with this and then move on? No one else needs to get hurt."

Bonnie took a deep, controlled breath. "I need to look at Damon's aura, yours too, Stefan."

"Me?" Stefan wondered in mild surprise. "I thought you did that on the weekend."

"No, I just checked the level of magic left in the Gilbert ring."

"Right." He nodded his head once, biting his bottom lip. "Are you sure you shouldn't..."

Bonnie nodded, knowing exactly what he was worried about. "I was thinking I would check you aura after Damon, I had no trouble last time. I already checked Alaric--"

"Excuse me!" Damon interrupted. "You had 'no trouble last time', and exactly what does that mean, Bon Bon? Because it sounds to me like after you snapped my neck, you entered my body without my permission. And that sounds a lot like--"

"I dare you to say it," Bonnie said.

Damon gave her a sharp smile. "You certainly violated my rights."

She scoffed. "I broke your neck in self-defence because you were trying to kill me, Damon. And there was no misinterpreting your intentions because you stated your plan outright of doing just that. And as for your aura? Well, let's just say I had little belief that your insane actions weren't just your crummy disposition, but I was hoping I was wrong."

"Oh, sorry my character is so offending to your judgy sensibilities, Bonnie. I'm the root of all that's evil, yeah, but you can call me cookie."

Elena was gobsmacked. "I'm sorry, did you just quote a _Bloodhound Gang_ song?" she questioned in disbelief, cutting right through their argument.

Damon's gaze cut to her. "Well, Elena Gilbert, I never knew."

"Jeremy listens to them and I may borrow his MP3 from time to time." Elena cleared her throat uncomfortably, feeling heat in her cheeks.

"It's nice to see you two bonding," Stefan said genuinely. "But, Damon, can you please just let Bonnie check so we can figure this out and move on?" he sat down heavily on the couch with a tired sigh. "I want to sleep in my own bed tonight."

"If it means you all leaving my house then let's get this done." Damon threw open his arms, "Enter me, Bon Bon!"

Bonnie scoff and rolled her eyes. "Just sit in a chair before I make you sit."

"Mm, power kink." Damon leered, but sat, flopping in the upholstered chair, leg fluidly swinging up to cross over his knee.

Bonnie momentary ignored him and looked to her best-friend, "Can you get me some water, Elena?"

"Sure." The long-haired brunette ran off again and Bonnie approached the vampire. Lips pursed tight, she grudgingly knelt in front of him.

"Oh, I like where this is going, witch." Damon dropped his leg and spread his knees.

"Shut up, Damon," Stefan warned, "Or I'll give her permission to melt your brain a little bit."

"You know I love it when you take control, baby." Damon murmured, but quieted down.

Elena returned to the parlor with a glass of tap water and handed it to Bonnie before she went over to the couch, glancing at Alaric who was leaned against the front stained window before she sat on Stefan's left, taking his hand and entwining her fingers in his in silent support. Stefan flashed her a reassuring smile before returning his attention back to the vampire and witch.

Damon unbuttoned two buttons on his shirt without having to be asked, remembering when Bonnie did this with Stefan at Christmas, with one key difference. Bonnie dipped her left hand in the water glass. "Why the water? You didn't need it before."

Bonnie rose up on her knees. "That's the one key difference; Stefan's alive, you're not. I need the water as a sort of conductor, a natural element that occurs in nature. Vampires are not natural, your aren't 'alive', you're animated by dark magic. It's invaded through every cell and fibre of your makeup." She pushed her hand through the opening in his shirt and laid it on his pale chest where his undead heart resided. "And just think of your heart as the sustained source of that dark magic—one of the reasons why its the most vulnerable part of you." She dipped her right index and middle fingers into the water and rose them to the vampire's temple, "Your head, too."

Bonnie took deep, controlled yoga breaths to help relax and center herself. It had been something that Grams had suggested at the beginning of her teaching. It had helped her discover her body, she was more flexible now that when she had been on the cheerleading squad; it helped her get attuned to herself. Magic was strong and dangerous, it put not only a physical strain on the body, but also strain on a witch's psyche. It made the bond between her body and her mind stronger, and in turn, the connection with her magic and nature. She closed her eyes, it helped her focus. Bonnie could feel Damon's heavy gaze filled with disdain and distrust. She subconsciously registered it and then moved on. She reached out with her magic through their physical connection.

Damon instantly felt it, but more, the fine hairs on his body stood on end in response and a deep ingrained instinct to his vampiric nature put him on high, weary alert, sensitive to magic, warning him far away. He stayed still. His body instinctively tried to resist the invasion, uselessly of course.

Bonnie connected, the conscious connection to her searching magic like a stretched elastic band at the automatic resistance she felt from the dark magic. But even as pumped up as Damon's Power was, hers was stronger. Once again she focused on the vampire's heart, delving to the core of dark magic, his Power. The bead of swirling dark magic was changed, it looked swollen, the surface undulating into random peaks. And Stefan, she could feel his influence, his essence, coating every cell.

Finally, Bonnie pulled back, both magically and physically, her brow slightly knitted as she processed.

"Are you okay, Bonnie?" Elena's voice kicked the witch into movement.

"I'm fine." Bonnie rose to her feet, turning, her gaze going across the parlor to the bampi. "Alaric?" she called.

Alaric was a little surprised to be called out. "Yes, Bonnie?"

"When was the last time you fed from Stefan?"

He didn't even need to think about it. "Six days." That morning, and the night before had been glorious and happy between him and Stefan. He couldn't say the same for the following days and the source of it all was seated in that chair.

"And when I first looked at Damon, it hadn't even been 24 hours since he fed," Bonnie murmured to herself in thought.

"Bonnie?" Stefan asked worriedly, sitting forward. "What is it, did you find something?"

"Yeah. How long do I have, doc?" Damon drawled.

"That's not funny, Damon!" Stefan rebuked his brother.

Bonnie bit the inside of her cheek. She went to the couch, perching on the free cushion to Stefan's right, facing him. Her hazel green eyes considering as she looked at him. "How are you feeling, Stefan?"

"Me?" He was surprised to be asked and a bit confused. "I'm fine, why?"

"I have a theory..." she said slowly, "But in order to be sure, I need to check Alaric's 'aura' again— _after_ he drinks your blood."

Damon snorted, standing. "Yeah, that's not going to happen, witch."

She didn't even turn her head to look at him as she addressed him. "I wasn't talking to you, Damon. And it's Stefan's decision, it's his blood. It's _yours_ , Stefan."

With everything that had been happening, Stefan knew Bonnie wouldn't ask something like this unless it was important. He turned his gaze from her face to Damon's hard one. Elena gave his hand a supportive squeeze before releasing it because they both already knew what he was going to do. "Okay." He stood. Damon's jaw clenched and his hand fisted but he didn't say anything as Stefan walked back around the couch to the other vampire.

"What? Stefan, no. You don't h--" Alaric started.

Stefan brushed the back of his knuckles down Alaric's cheek, against the prickle of his stubble. "I love you for saying that, but I do. It's okay, I want you to."

Alaric took his left hand on his cheek, pressing a kiss to his palm. "If you're sure."

"I am," he promised.

"How much do you need me to drink?" Alaric asked Bonnie.

"The typical amount you usually take should be fine," Bonnie answered, twisted around to look over the back of the couch. She looked at Stefan for confirmation, "Is that okay?"

Stefan nodded. "Yeah, it's fine. And not that I'm choosing sides," Stefan clarified, "But could you feed from my wrist? My neck's pretty tender and it'll be suspicious if I go to school sporting a new Band-Aid; Caroline is very perceptive."

Alaric frowned a little at the fresh Band-Aid on Stefan's throat, the corresponding spot of blood on the sling strap. "Of course," he murmured. He turned Stefan's hand over, revealing his wrist. His thumb stroked that edge of the Band-Aid that lay there; it was another one of Damon's bites hidden beneath. He tried not to think about the fact that Damon had more physical claim over Stefan than him right now. He peeled the Band-Aid off, the adhesive pulled at the skin and there they were, Damon's double-fangs set into the thin, sensitive skin of Stefan's wrist. He could feel the ache in his gums, the tingle under his eyes, it was a collision of hunger and the desire to obliterate Damon's feeding mark from Stefan's skin.

Alaric cleared his throat awkwardly, shooting a glance over at the others, suddenly very aware that they were being watched intently.

"Performance anxiety, Teacher?" Damon mocked.

"Don't listen to him," Stefan said, ignoring his brother. He turned Alaric so his back was to the rest of the room and the others.

Eyes on Stefan's, Alaric rose his wrist to his mouth. He let his true-face take over, sclera flushed with blood, engorged veins pulsing under his eyes, lips pulled back, he carefully sunk his fangs into Stefan's wrist. He sighed, his eyes slipping closed, a small groan escaping him as Stefan's hot blood hit his tongue, filled his mouth. He forgot about his audience and simply relished in the taste and warmth of blood, the pulse in Stefan's wrist, Stefan's scent in his nose, the feel of his skin.

Alaric could just live the rest of his life with his lips pressed against Stefan, no fangs included. And he did. His fangs retracted, his face returning to normal and kept his lips pressed against skin still, relishing the warmth of the skin, the pulse beneath his lips, the scent in his nose. But after a moment he made himself pull away. He opened his eyes and slowly licked the traces of blood from his lips, still gently holding Stefan's wrist. Stefan leaned forward and slowly kissed him, sighing against his lips, wishing he no audience and two arms.

"Um, here's a fresh Band-Aid." Elena offered somewhat awkward and timidly from behind them when they parted.

"Thanks, Elena." Alaric turned and took the offered bandage.

Elena's gaze flickered between them, before darting for a second to Alaric's mouth as the vampire licked the remnants of blood from the corner of his mouth, before looking away. "Sure." She turned away, arms crossed under her chest, moving back to the couch. She coincidently met Damon's gaze and he gave he a knowing little smirk; lips pursed, she turned her chin.

Alaric fixed the new Band-Aid over the old and new fang marks on Stefan's wrist, fingers gently smoothing it over. "Now what?" he asked Bonnie.

The witch stood. "Now I check your 'aura'."

Alaric sat in Bonnie's recently vacated spot on the couch. Stefan perched on the couch arm on the other end by Elena. Bonnie sat on the edge of the coffee table facing the vampire, again dipping her hand and opposing fingers in the same glass of water. Her fingers went to his temple, her hand inside his button up on chest against hair and skin. She closed her eyes, focused, she was barely one yoga breath in before she was connected. Just like the first time earlier today, unlike Damon, she felt no resistance at her intrusion of opposing magic. Bonnie wasn't sure if it had to do with the fact that Alaric was just more open to her presence, or if it had to do with his young age as a vampire as opposed to Damon's much more senior age.

She easily found his core of magic. Like Damon, she could feel Stefan's essence inside Alaric (something she actually hadn't the first time), but unlike Damon, the surface of the bead of swirling dark magic was smooth and calm. It was not the chaotic mix of Stefan's blood and dark magic that had been within Damon. Stefan's essence in Alaric was just faint enough for her to recognize and register its existence but not strong enough to have an influence on the dirty-blond vampire. Bonnie felt out the rest of him, each cell had absorbed— _healthily_ —it seemed Stefan's blood.

Finally, Bonnie pulled out, quiet, elbows on her knees, clasped hands against her lips in thought. She needed all her ducks in a row, but first... she rose her head and looked at Stefan, "Your turn, Stefan."

"Okay," he murmured, albeit nervously. "Are you sure...?"

"Yeah, but maybe we should do it somewhere a little less hazardous in case what happened last time happens again." She suggested.

"I think you're right," Stefan agreed and the pair started to gather the throw pillows.

Elena looked between the two with concern. "What happened last time?"

"Oh, you mean when Stefan tried to suck Bonnie of all her magic before some invisible force threw her across the room?" Damon said casually, pouring himself a fresh tumbler of bourbon.

Elena's brow crinkled, not sure she should believe him. "What?"

"He's exaggerating," Alaric said, giving the other vampire a look.

Stefan pursed his lips. "He's really not," he uttered guiltily, unable to look her in the eye.

"It'll be okay, Stefan." Bonnie promised, on the floor and arranging the throw pillows behind her. "Sit in front of me." She patted the floor.

Stefan sunk down onto the cushion, legs cross in front of Bonnie, their knees touching. He pushed a button free from the buttonhole. Bonnie gave him a reassuring smile. She took his left hand in her right, they lay clasped on his knee, she place her hand over his heart through his open shirt. Her eyes closed. She could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the fast beat of his heart under her hand.

"Breathe, Stefan." She murmured. "Slow and deep. Just follow me."

Stefan nodded and watched her, the slow and even rise of her chest and tried to match it. He didn't want to hurt her again like the first time, didn't want to end up doing to her what he did to Damon. She was expecting it, expecting to be hurt by him and it made him sick. His exhale was a little shaky, and he swallowed convulsively against the swell of emotion. Bonnie squeezed his hand and he focused. He needed to push it away, dump all the negativity for her sake. He remember how much pain he'd caused, not just by the magic siphoning, but by his own poisonous spirit. He breathed.

Their breaths synchronized, Bonnie's heart drew to his rhythm. And then he felt it, the connection. The beauty of the purity of her Bennett magic. He could feel it, the sweet warmth that spread from his heart to his fingertips and toes with the steady pulse of his heart. He could have wept; it was like a warm embrace around his heart. He couldn't understand how something could be so wonderful to him and cause her so much pain, but then again, isn't that what he did?

His lashes fluttered and eyes rolled up.

Bonnie was prepared, but that didn't matter. It was like diving into the rapids of a river. She knew what to expect, yet was still swept away. As soon as she connected, she was yanked down.

She'd hoped after 6 months something would have changed; all the vampire blood he'd drunk, all her magic he'd absorbed from the Gilbert ring, even the Power he siphoned from Damon... that the viciousness of the magic sucking black hole would have eased in his hunger or _something_.

Such sadness, such loneliness, such helplessness, such fear, the hunger and the pain.

Bonnie didn't know what she could do to change it.

It was drowning her, wanting to consume her. Tears stung her eyes behind closed lids. Stefan needed her but she wasn't strong enough. This time she could fight it—this time she didn't. She didn't resist the powerful, draining pull sucking at her magic and for a terrible, terrible moment, it felt like she was being ripped apart, like her soul was being torn from her body. A quiet, wretched wail was involuntarily uttered from her lips.

"Bonnie!" Elena cried out, instantly moving toward the pair only to have Damon intercept her.

"And where to you think you're going?" he asked.

She struggled against the arm wrapped around her waist. "Damon, let go! Something's wrong, she hurting."

"That's just baby brother sucking up her magic." Damon muttered quietly, taking a drink from his tumbler, waching the pair on the floor, the sweat and strain beaded on Bonnie's face, Stefan's a polar opposite of peace. "She knew what she signed up for, she can handle herself, Elena." She stilled at his words, surprised at such a supportive thing coming from his mouth about the young witch. She turned her head to the side to look back at him. "Don't you dare tell Bon Bon I said such a thing, it'll be a scandal." He whispered in good humour. Sober, he murmured, "They'll be okay." He turned his blue gaze back to the pair and after a moment of studying his face, she turned to look back at them again, Damon’s arm around her waist more a comfort now than a form of restraint.

And just as sudden and as violent as it started, it stopped. Bonnie almost blacked out and lost the connection. It was like she was in the eye of the storm. She could feel herself regaining her strength, her magic building back up, the strain and pain leaking from her expression. There was no doubt in her that _this_ was Stefan's true core. The calm hadn't been there before or maybe she just had to let herself go in order to find it.

Tentatively, she reached out with her magic, feeling her way. She could still feel the pull but it was slight and she was able to focus. She gasped softly; incredible and incredulous. The power residing in his blood... if she didn't know better, she might have mistaken his aura for a witch's. And then she lost it.

"What the hell?" Alaric uttered, who had been watching the pair as intently as the others. "His eyes..." he glanced over at Damon, who met his gaze briefly and an infinitesimal nod to tell him he wasn't crazy, Stefan's eyes did flash black.

"What? What is it? What's wrong?" Elena questioned, looking between the two vampires, her human gaze not catching what their vampire sharpened ones did.

"Don't worry about it, Elena." Damon told her.

Stefan looked across at the witch who watched him back with a look in her eyes that he couldn't interoperate or maybe just didn't want to. She was still sitting upright, their knees touching, hand still connected; that had to count for something, she hadn’t been thrown back by some invisible force like she had last time. But his hope that this time had truly been different shattered as he caught sight of the dry salt track on her cheek. His voice cracked, "I hurt you again, didn't I?"

"No, Stefan, no." Bonnie said immediately and shook her head. "It was different this time." Stefan gave her a smile but it didn't reach his eyes. Bonnie couldn't remember the last he gave one that did and it made her have to work all the more harder to stop herself from bursting into tears and throwing herself at him like she'd done the first time. "It hurt at first," she admitted, tightening her hand on his, "But I didn't fight it this time and something happened, something changed." There was quiet wonder in her voice. "There was a calm in you that I didn't feel before. That's _good_ , Stefan."

"I guess it did feel a little different. Less euphoric like a drug and more soothing and warm like a balm." But Stefan was still reluctant to believe her and let himself off the hook.

_Kindred spirit_ , she thought but before she could say anything, Damon spoke:

"So, what's the judgement, judgy?" Damon said, his chin on Elena's shoulder.

Bonnie looked at Stefan a moment longer before looking up at their waiting audience. "Stefan's blood is saturated in magic. More than I would find in a normal doppelganger like Elena."

"Because you brought him back with magic?" Elena questioned, stepping out of Damon's hold self-consciously after feeling his breath against the side of her throat.

Bonnie nodded. "Being changed human, being brought back from the dead... those are extremely powerful things. Magic like that affects and lingers." She looked back to the short-haired brunette, "It's made your blood more powerful, more potent, Stefan."

"Okay," Stefan nodded slowly.

"So, to put it bluntly..." she released Stefan's hand and looked up at Damon, "Your body went into shock, much the same way Stefan's did when he drank your blood for the first time. Your body couldn't handle the excess of foreign magic and you went a little neurotic, it was enhanced by your vampirism and you got aggressive and territorial. Alaric has been drinking Stefan's blood almost out of the gate since his transition, his body has acclimated to the foreign potency of magic in Stefan's blood."

"So, what you're saying is," Stefan uttered, his green gaze lowered, unable to meet her eyes or anyone's, "Ric's built up a tolerance and Damon overdosed." _Because my blood is poison. I've been poisoning my own brother._ His blood was supposed to help fix whatever was happening, not be the cause, not exacerbate it. "What, and now he's just supposed to go into 'withdrawal' and desiccate again?" he looked up at her fiercely, "Because I'll tell you right now, I'm not gonna let that happen, Bonnie."

She could see the anguish in his eyes that was like a stab in her chest. "I agree." She said, much to everyone's surprise, but particularly the Salvatore brothers.

Damon's arms folded over his chest. "Then what do you purpose, Bonnie?"

Bonnie climbed to her feet and faced the vampire, her own arms crossed and her head slightly canted as she regarded him. "I don't think it should be done cold turkey, so to speak, clearly something in you is reliant on something in Stefan's blood or we would be where we are in the first place. We need to wean you. Just think of it like..." she got a sly little smirk on her lips, "Like an infant weaned off mother's breast milk. You are a child, after all."

"You think you're insulting me, that's cute." He said. Damon glanced over. "Hear that, Ric? I got the witch's approval." Alaric glared. "What? I thought we made up. You practically hugged me the other day."

"And I'll throttle you today," he uttered lowly. Damon just chuckled in the face of the threat.

Bonnie ignored them and looked down at Stefan who had gathered all the throw cushions into two piles in his lap, his left arm laid across the top the top to stabilize, his head lain on top, face obscured. "Stefan?"

"Uh-huh?"

"I need to know you're okay with this, Stefan."

"I am."

Bonnie crouched down and placed a warm hand on his upper arm. "I would feel more confident if you were actually looking me in the eye."

Stefan rose his head enough to gaze at her across his forearm. God, those forest green eyes were killing her right now. "Get Damon stable on my blood and then slowly wean him off. I understand, Bonnie."

Her hand squeezed comforting on his arm. "I know how you're feeing, Stefan." She whispered quietly, their faces close. "I felt it, too, remember?"

He wasn't sure if it was more comforting if her tear had been from the turmoil of experiencing his core emotions or the physical pain of the interaction. Neither. No one should have to know that poisonous pit that was his body, mind, and emotion; no one else deserved that. "I'm just hungry and tired," it wasn't a lie, but he also knew it wasn't what she was talking about.

He didn't have to worry; his blood may have been the thing to cause this, but it was also only his blood that could fix it. His blood. Not even his doppelganger's blood could supplement it, so he couldn't replace Stefan.

She gave him a sad, understanding smile. "We're almost done."

"Speaking of which, witch, what's my feeding schedule?" Damon finished off his bourbon and set his empty tumbler down with a clank on the table.

Bonnie rolled her eyes at the vampire. "Seeing how fast you declined this weekend, tomorrow, but you're also going to drink blood bags regular alongside Stefan's blood." Bonnie looked to Stefan, "Half a pint?" she suggest. "For now and we'll see how that works out before trying to lower the amount."

Stefan nodded in agreement. "Alright."

Bonnie sighed quietly and after a moment felt the need to address it. "It's your decision if you want to keep letting Alaric feed from you, but you need to be mindful of how much your body can take, Stefan. I know before all of this that Alaric wasn't feeding from you _everyday_ and I know he never took as much as Damon has in one sitting. At least abstain until we get a handle on this--"

"Why is this starting to feel like some sort of safe sex talk?" Stefan muttered uncomfortably.

"I don't know what you have to be embarrassed about," Damon said. "Bonnie's the only virgin here."

"What the hell!" Bonnie exclaimed. "I'm disturbed that you know that... how do you know that?"

"Remember that time I snacked on your jugular that once? I could tell right away—virgin blood." He kissed his fingertips like an Italian chef.

Bonnie looked horrified. She looked to Stefan for confirmation, "Can vampire's really tell that?"

"No." Stefan shot his brother a mild look.

"Ugh!" Bonnie chucked a brass candle stick at the vampire. Damon caught it in a flash.

"You know, I wasn't 100% about it until now."

"You're disgusting."

"I know!" he whispered in delight.

"Ugh," she sat back on her heels, a look of disgust scrunching her nose, "Why am I even helping you?"

"Because you love my brother," he smirked and gave a one-shouldered shrug, spinning the brass candle stick before setting it down. "I'll accept the second-hand love, Bon Bon.

Bonnie shook her head and had to look away, unable to stand looking at him anymore. "That's it, I can't stay here any longer, I've exhausted my Damon Tolerance." She rose to her feet.

Stefan held up his left hand to her and she helped pulled him back to his feet, tossing the throw pillows onto the nearby chair. "Thank you, Bonnie."

"Of course, Stefan." She hugged him gently and he kissed her hair before they parted.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow for school," Elena said.

Stefan nodded. "I shouldn't be driving stick right now, at least not while I still need to wear the sling. Do you think you can bring Salvatore back when you come?"

"Of course, Stefan. And I promise I'll drive very carefully." She hugged him for a moment. "I'm glad you're okay," she whispered and kissed him on the cheek when she pulled away.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Stefan." They saw themselves out.

"I know where this is going." Damon uttered as he looked between the couple. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and walked out of the parlor and up stairs.

"I already know what you're going to say," Alaric held up a hand and stopped Stefan from speaking. "At least let me make you something before I go."

Stefan gave him a soft smile. "Okay."

Stefan sat on a stool at the island and didn't even make a comment at the apron, or lack thereof as Alaric made him a grilled club sandwich on the press and a mug of tea. He cut the sandwich into 4 triangles with a butcher knife before placing it in front of Stefan so it would be easier to handle and eat with just his left hand. The small thoughtful action caused an emotional lump to spring up in his throat and it made Stefan want to start crying, it was an exhausting effort to swallow it all back.

"You okay?" Alaric's hand was warm rubbing his back.

Stefan gulped and cleared his throat but his voice still sounded a little gummy. "It looks good, thank you." He picked up a piece, noticing a spot of blood leaching through the Band-Aid on the inside of his wrist before he bit into the point of the sandwich. "Mm, it tastes good too." A little smile flickered at the corner of the vampire's mouth. "Can you go a little higher than that?"

"Sure," Alaric's hand moved up, joined by his other and started to massage Stefan's shoulders and neck.

"Ah." He made an appreciative sound. "I know you're upset," Stefan murmured as he intermittingly took bites from his sandwich, "This isn't the outcome I was looking for either, but it's where we are. "

"I don't like it," Alaric agreed. "But I get it, Stefan, I do."

"It's only blood, there's much more to go around." Alaric's hands still briefly at his words before continuing.

"What did Bonnie mean when she said she knew what you were feeling?" Alaric asked. "She seemed really concerned, Stefan."

"She's just worried about everything that's been going on between the three of us." Stefan paused for a drink of tea and set it down, his thumb tracing the edge of the mug handle. "And she found out about my suicide attempt."

"You told her about the roof." He was definitely surprised at that.

"No," Stefan stated after a moment.

"When you were--?" Stefan's head shake stilled him.

"No," he said quietly. "It was reason why she got me Salvatore, though it turns out she didn't actually realize it at the time. I always assumed she knew and we just didn't talk about, so that was an uncomfortable surprise. It wasn't really an outright, cohesive action; just me _leaving_ and not _coming back._ " Stefan reached up and grabbed Alaric's hand over his shoulder before the vampire could think to pull away. "But it was a long time ago, Ric, and I have no intention of going anywhere." Stefan leaned back against Alaric's chest. "I can't tell you where the line is with Damon, all I know is that I haven't found it yet and I can't honestly say if I ever will. That's scary, Ric. Terrifying if I stop and actually think about it, but he's my big brother. I would go to the end of the earth for him and to me, that's just love. I don't know what else to say except that I love you, too."

Stefan tilted his head back, looking up at Alaric behind him. Alaric leaned forward over him and kissed him upside-down, slow and breathlessly. Stefan groaned quietly into his mouth and the vampire lapped it up like it was blood. The position wasn't very comfortable but he didn't have to worry for long; hands on his thighs, Alaric spun him around on the stool and kissed him properly, standing between his legs.

Alaric finally pulled back marginally to let the brunette breath, still cupping his head, thumbs stroking the corners of his jaw. "It feels like I haven't kissed you properly in a while." He murmured against Stefan's lips.

Stefan left arm hugged around the vampire's hip. "I agree."

"You were right," Alaric told him, fingers carding through the hair at the back of his head.

"About what?"

"That sandwich being good."

Stefan snorted. "So that's why you were tonguing me so damn thorough then."

He gave a teasing little shrug. "I wouldn't lick just anyone's tonsils."

"Are you sure you're really 34 years old?" Stefan questioned dubiously.

Alaric straightened, amusement in his expression. "I'm a teenager compared to you," he stroked the brunette's bottom lip.

"True," Stefan smiled.

"Gotta say," Alaric looked him up and down. "You're holding up pretty well for a 162 year old. Not even a wrinkle or grey hair."

Stefan gave him an amused headshake. "Just a little thing called vampirism for about the last 15 decades. Being human is what has banged me up," he tried to joke but it fell pretty flat going by the dirty-blond's expression. "I'm okay, really. It's in the past."

Alaric cupped his face and looked into his green eye intently. "I love you, Stefan, and that isn't contingent on me feeding on your blood."

"You have no idea how badly I needed you to say that," Stefan confessed.

"I might be acting like a jealous brat, but I really do mean it, Stefan. I didn't fall in love with you because of your blood and that's not the reason why I've stayed in love with you."

"I can safely say the same," Stefan murmured with a small genuine smile that did reach his eyes.

Alaric kissed him, a sad little quirk on his. "I guess I should get going, let you get your beauty sleep in."

"Okay." Stefan walked Alaric out to his car and grabbed his duffle and bag from his own. He set his duffle on his bed and turned on a bedside lamp to get rid of the dimness and started to unpack. He felt a little more settled with the duffle empty, but it was odd to see the empty space on the shelf above the bureau without Salvatore, knowing that the comet goldfish wasn't just downstairs in the library or parlor, but in town sitting on Elena's nightstand in her bedroom.

He went into his en suite with an armful of his toiletries and while in there, he went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and with his right arm free from the sling after changing into some sweat pants and a wife beater, he peeled off the Band-Aid on his wrist, cleaned up the cluster of feeding marks, old and new, and put on a new Band-Aid with some cream. Stefan inspected the Band-Aid on the left side of his neck in the mirror, but unlike the wound on his wrist, there was no blood spotting through and Damon had already cleaned it earlier, so if need-be he would change it in the morning before school.

He crawled into bed. It was only 9 o'clock but he was tired enough not to care, 10 hours of sleep could be nothing but good for him. He set his alarm and turned off the lamp, settling back comfortable with a pillow propped under his elbow.

The night could have gone worse.

No one ended up curled into the foetal position, sobbing on the floor. There was yelling but no physical fighting; the only blood drawn was Stefan's. It had all the hall marks of a good night—even Damon had been behaved for Damon.

Now Damon just needed to get off his blood and everything could go back to the way it was before, when everyone wasn't at everyone else’s throats because of his magically potent blood.

Maybe none of this would even be happening if Damon had just taken him up on the offer to drink his blood, then, like Alaric, he would have been introduced to Stefan's blood in his early magic absorbing days and his tolerance would have naturally adapted like Alaric's to the growing potency of Stefan's blood.

But, like many, many things in the past 7 months, it was just another thing that Stefan needed to accept that he couldn't change, adapt to it, and move on.

It was all he really could do nowadays.

_[...tbc...]_

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \ (._.) (._.) /  
>  ( ( > _I'm the root of all that's evil, yeah, but you can call me cookie_ < ) )  
>  / \ - "Fire Water Burn" by: **Bloodhound Gang.** / \


	32. CHAPTER 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry if it’s been a while, but here’s a big chapter for you all just before the Christmas weekend.

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

 

Stefan groaned, still in a fog of sleep as his alarm went off. His arm slapped back at the clock, forgetting momentarily that his arm was broken and encased in a heavy cast. He knocked the alarm clock off his nightstand and to the floor where it continued to wail at him to wake up. He groaned again, arm hanging off the side of the bed as he kicked his cozy blankets off and tried to rub the clinging sleep from his eyes with his left. He lumbered upright, bare feet over the side of the bed. He stretched his leg out, catching the cord with his toes and pulled the clock back towards him. He turned it off with relief and set it back on his nightstand. 

10 hours did not feel like nearly enough, but he knew he'd be more clear-headed once he had coffee and a robust breakfast in him. So he got up and stumbled into his bathroom; washing his face did help to wake him up. He grabbed a pair of jeans, slipped on a black crew neck t-shirt, some socks, grabbed his sling and bag and headed downstairs for the kitchen.

He yawned as he put coffee on to brew. He threw in a short stack of frozen Belgium waffles into the toaster and took the allotted time until forks-up to slice up 2 red apples. When the waffles popped he put on some butter, slathered them in peanut butter and arranged the thinly sliced apples on top. He sat down with his first cup of coffee to eat, but already knew a second would be along shortly.

He was just finishing his second waffle with his mug low when Damon refilled his coffee over his shoulder without a word.

"You're being nice," Stefan said drily, "You must want something."

"Pony up, brother."

Stefan sighed. "I have a favour to ask."

"Oh?" Damon raised a dark brow. "And what might that be?"

"Would I be able to give you blood _after_ school?" he asked carefully.

"And miss _my_ breakfast? Don't you know that's the most important meal of the day, Stefan." Damon made mock a disapproving face.

Stefan eyed him for a second. "Please, Damon, I'm asking seriously. Just for today so I can get through school."

"You heard the witch, less than 24 hours and shit starts happening. 20 hours is pushing it, brother, don't you think?"

"I'll come straight home, I promise. But if something starts happening, or if you can't wait, text me and you can pick me up, okay?"

"So while my veins are desiccating and my skin marbles, I'm supposed to go and pick you up at school? Don't you think that might draw a little unwanted attention that I won't have the Power to compel away? I would be less conspicuous if I was Twilight-inflicted, at least then I could just tell people I was at a very glitter-enthusiastic strip joint." He drawled condescendingly, "Ooh, too bad this is real life and not some unrealistically depicted teenage girl vampire love story."

Stefan's lips pursed as he looked at his brother, Damon stared unblinkingly back. "I know it's a lot to ask," he said quietly, "We're in this situation at my own fault. It's just today, and I'll come straight home after school. And tomorrow we can have breakfast together." Damon's ice blue eyes were his most prominent and penetrating feature with his shock of dark hair; they conveyed whatever he wanted straight into your soul and were unflinching.

"This is your one Veto Day, brother," Damon finally said. "Relish it. Your curfew is set for 5:00 p.m. If you're even 1 minute late, well... your own guilt will be worse than anything I could ever do to you."

Damon left and Stefan sighed sadly and finished his breakfast more subdued than when he had started. But he finished his waffles and drained his coffee; his body needed it. He figured with Elena driving with Salvatore as her aquatic passenger, she would get to the Boarding House a little later than typical, so he used the time to pack himself lunch, temporarily freeing himself from the sling.

He grabbed a zipper hoodie and put that on before the sling again over it, put on his boots and just waited sat on the low wall in the sun for Elena. Her black SUV pulled in shortly later and he approached the idling vehicle.

He opened the passenger door. "Hey. Where's Salvatore?"

Elena looked over at him, an almost guilty look in her doe eyes. "Stefan, I--"

"Did something happen?" he asked worriedly, still standing, his satchel fished in his hand.

"I didn't bring him," she confessed. "I didn't know how to transport him without spilling him. I don't know how Bonnie managed but she must have used magic, it's the only explanation. I'm sorry, Stefan. We can get him after school?"

Stefan worried his bottom lip momentarily before he blew out a breath and climbed into the SUV. "Okay, but I have to be back before 5." He put his satchel between his feet in the footwell and pulled the seatbelt across as Elena went down the drive.

"What's at 5?" she wondered, turning onto the highway.

"I haven't given Damon any blood yet."

"What?" she shot him a surprised look. "I thought Bonnie said--"

"I know, but I woke up feeling like crap after how much I gave yesterday and I knew I wouldn't make through the day if I did, so Damon made a concession that I get 1 Veto Day. This is it, and starting tomorrow it's breakfast blood."

Elena's lips were pursed into a worried frown. "Are you sure you're okay? If we ask Bonnie I'm sure she can come up with some other way..."

Stefan shook his head. "If there was an alternative way to fix the damage I did, Bonnie never would have suggested this."

"Stefan, this isn't your fault!" Elena protested.

Stefan didn't try and argue the point, just gave her a soft indulging smile. "I'm going to be okay, Elena. It's going to be fine."

The glance she shot him didn't look nearly convinced. But it was going to be, it had to because if something happened to Damon-- Stefan gave his head a little shake and looked out the passenger window at the passing wood. Nothing was going to happen to Damon because Stefan's blood was going to fix him this time.

...

When they met up at school with the others, the first thing Bonnie did was give him a subtle searching, assessing scrutiny, but was unable to speak freely with their non-supernaturally informed friends around—which Stefan took as a blessing. And when they were together throughout the school day, Elena would send him looks. He put a worried little crease between her plucked brows that wasn't supposed to be there. Stefan ended up altering between giving her reassuring looks and turning a blind eye to it.

He was emotionally exhausted by the time the final bell rang and then just physically after the teacher gave him the mundane task of cataloguing in Auto Shop last period, but the doppelgangers made a timely departure and headed for the Gilbert residence.

There was another car parked in the driveway with Jenna's red Mini that he knew he should recognize, but for the life of him couldn't as he climbed the porch steps with Elena. When he asked her she confessed she wasn't sure about it either.

"Oh, Elena," Jenna said with mild surprise as she saw the pair, coming down the main hall from the kitchen after hearing the door. "I thought you were Jeremy; you said you were driving Stefan home, I wasn't expecting you back so early."

"I am, I was just going to get his fish and then go." Elena told her, hand on the baluster at the stairs. "I'll just be a minute, Stefan." She quickly ascended the staircase.

"Hello, Jenna." Stefan gave her a wry quirk of the lips. "How have you been?"

"You mean since you last saw me yesterday morning?" she chuckled. "I've been good, Stefan, how are you doing?"

"I'm doing okay," he assured. "I want to thank you again for letting me stay the weekend no strings attached, but I still feel uncomfortable with not helping out with anything."

"How about this, when you're arm's healed you can cook for us." Jenna suggested. "We warmed up the leftover spaghetti from Sunday night yesterday for dinner and Jeremy told me that you fixed up the sauce; your cooking has become my new guilty pleasure, Stefan."

He gave a small chuckle. "I had to practically beg Elena and Bonnie to let me do that. I would love to cook for you anytime, Jenna."

"Stefan," Elena called down as she cautiously descended the stair carrying Salvatore's fishbowl carefully so she didn't slosh. "Now what?"

"Do you have a clear plastic bag?" Stefan asked Jenna.

"Of course. Would a freezer bag do?" the pair followed her down the hall to the kitchen.

"That's fine." Stefan stopped short just inside the kitchen, Elena found out why a second later after nearly crashing into him.

"Elena, you remember Andie?" Jenna said, going to the counter and pulling open a drawer. And there was Mystic Fall's own WPKW9 local newscaster, Andie Star.

Stefan instinctively stiffened, the muscle in his shoulder spasming into his neck in reaction. Elena caught it, but knew her aunt hadn't.

"Andie," he said politely.

"Stefan," Andie said. "What happened to your arm?"

"I broke it Friday." He asked somewhat uncomfortable, "I'm sorry about what happened with Damon, how are you doing?"

She gave him a small smile, "You're a special kid, Stefan, did you know that?" unfortunately he did all too well. "That's sweet of you to ask. I'm doing okay. Any break-up is tough, even though it's mutual between both sides. Damon was fun and I had fun, but we just didn't want the same things out of life, you know? He was sweet and he just wants to take care you, Stefan. I know you two have been having a bit of trouble, I hope you work it out because he really does love you, Stefan."

Stefan didn't know what to say, didn't know if he even _could_ say anything with how constricted his throat and chest felt. Was this some plot Damon compelled her to say if they ever ran into each other or was it just the truth? Stefan didn't like that he wasn't sure, but everything just seemed to get twisted when Andie was mentioned or involved, it was just an abnormal visceral response in the doppelganger.

"Here you go, Stefan." Jenna handed him the large Ziplock freezer bag.

Elena set the fish by the kitchen sink and with a dry measure scoop, Stefan transferred the water and the comet goldfish safely into the freezer bag, securing it and leaving nothing but a shallow bit of water in the fishbowl with the clear blue stones, plant, and astronaut figurine. One side-glance at Stefan and Elena verbalized their departure to Jenna.

"Goodbye, Stefan." Andie said. "Say hello to Damon for me."

It was silent in the vehicle until Elena crossed the neighbourhood boundary onto the highway to the Salvatore Boarding House and she couldn't restrain herself any longer. "Wanna talk about it?" Elena ventured without much hope in getting a response in turn; the look Stefan shot her said everything it needed to. "Okay," she said softly, "But know I'm here if you want to."

"Sorry," he said guiltily. "Thanks, but no thank you."

They finished the drive with the radio on.

Elena put the SUV into park in the Boarding House driveway. Stefan unclipped the seatbelt and got out, turning back to the to the interior and setting Salvatore in the freezer bag upright against the back of the seat and reached for his satchel in the footwell.

"Do you need hand?" Elena punned in question; she was pleased to note at least a shadow of amusement quirk the corner of his lips.

"That was terrible," he told her.

"Don't lie," she scolded amusedly, "I saw that little smirk."

"Not that I'm saying that there was a smirk, but if there was, then it was a pity smirk for that terrible, uncreative pun."

"You're a terrible liar, Stefan Salvatore." Elena declared. "I'm funny and you love my jokes."

"I love you so I guess that does mean I love your jokes—your very _corny_ jokes." He added in tease.

She stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry at him, making him chuckle and her smile. "Still don't need a hand?"

"No, I'm good." He drew the strap of his satchel over his shoulder, held the fishbowl in his left arm with the corner of the freezer bag propped securely in the opening. "Thanks, Elena."

"Sure. Bye, Stefan, I'll see you in the morning."

"Bye." Stefan shut the passenger door with his hip and back away a few feet to watch Elena pull away down the drive. He turned and went up the steps to the front door. Fingers out of the sling, Stefan leaned forward and opened the door. He kicked it closed behind him and set the fishbowl and Salvatore down separately onto the side table in the front entrance. He took off his satchel and toed off his buckle boots. It was 10 to half-past 4 and though he made his mandatory curfew time and wanted to get Salvatore situated back into his fishbowl and in his bedroom, Stefan couldn't make Damon wait any longer, he had his requested grace period, now it was time to pay his toll in blood.

"I'm home," Stefan said from the parlor entryway. Damon was stretched across the couch, feet crossed up on the armrest with a tumbler of bourbon resting on his chest, the corresponding bottle close at hand on the rug at the foot of the couch.

"Oh, I hadn't noticed that," Damon said sarcastically, draining his tumbler. "Want a sweet for being early?"

"No need to get snippy." Stefan muttered. He eyed his brother as he came into the front room, "You feeling okay, have you drunk any blood bags?"

"Yes, mother." Damon sat up, throwing his legs over the side. "Alcohol has more substance right now."

"But you didn't throw it back up or anything, right?" Stefan stopped behind the chair.

"No."

"That's good."

"Sure, brother, but now I want my dinner." Damon stood.

"Okay." Stefan's left fingers drummed briefly on the back of the chair. "I have another favour to ask."

Damon sighed in annoyance. "I'm done waiting, Stefan."

"And I'm not asking you to," he swore.

Damon gestured a hand. "What, then? Spit it out, I'm hungry."

"Can you feed from my wrist?"

"Sloppy Seconds?" he scoffed. "Stefan, I'm insulted."

"It's called being socially conscious." Stefan reasoned. "I can't just show up at school with a new Band-Aid in a new place everyday, somebody's gonna notice." When he'd been drinking vampire blood in return, it wasn't something he had to worry about no matter how often Alaric fed from him, but he didn't have the advantage of that any longer and Damon would be feeding from him everyday.

"Uh-huh." He crossed his arms. "Take off your shirt." Damon told him.

"You can't just--?" Stefan lifted his wrist.

"No."

Stefan sighed but pulled the sling strap off overhead, unzipped his hoodie and pulled his t-shirt off overhead, laying them across the back of the chair. While the wrist and neck were easy access points, it was easier to hide secrets under clothing as both brothers well knew.

"Why are you hiding behind the chair, Stefan?"

"I'm not hiding behind anything, I just happen to be standing here." Stefan returned. He stepped out from behind the chair and opened his arms. "Happy?" he dropped his arms.

Damon twirled his finger. "Give me a little twirl, huh, baby?"

"I am not giving you a spin, Damon!" Stefan scoffed. "I thought you said you were hungry?" he started to turn back towards the chair, "I'll come back--" Damon blurred in front him, blocking his path. Stefan gave a self-satisfied smirk at Damon's glower. "Stop screwing around then."

"Alright, brother." Damon's expression smoothed out but then he got that look in his eyes. His gaze landed on Alaric's lone unmolested feeding mark that lay at Stefan left crook where shoulder and neck met.

Stefan saw the tiny smirk flicker at the corner of Damon's lips and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "No," Stefan said firmly, holding up a warning finger, "Don't get any smart ideas, Damon." He started to back up and Damon slowly stalked forward with a predatory atmosphere, engorged veins starting under his eyes. Hands on his shoulders, Stefan's back hit the stone mantel of the fireplace. "Could you not throw me up against a wall every time?"

"Foreplay, Stefan. I thought you loved that?"

He huffed. "Please, just bite me already."

Damon smirked, fangs visible. "You asked for it, brother." And Damon's large, double fangs pierced through skin and old wounds at the juncture of Stefan's left neck and shoulder.

"Remember only half a pint," Stefan reminded. Damon's hand moved from his shoulder and fingers found his lips, silencing him from saying anything further. Breath puffed out his nose and he rolled his eyes but let his brother drink in silence.

Damon's hand dropped from his mouth and cupped the side of his throat momentarily, his fangs released Stefan. The vampire straightened, licking the traces of blood from his lips as he scrutinized his baby brother. "You good?" his thumb tapped against the side of his throat.

"Of course," Stefan straightened from the mantel. He had his 10 hours, drank lots of coffee, had a big lunch and his day of rest. Not to mention this was the least blood Damon had taken from him thus far. The way he was feeling, it was hard to believe that this thing had only kicked off 4 days ago. "You?"

"Yup."

"Well, then I'm taking Salvatore up to me room." Stefan waited, but Damon hadn’t stepped back or dropped his hand and his thumb was doing that stroking thing against his throat that made him feel a jumble of things that wouldn't correlate to an outsider and made a sense to Stefan that he didn't want to understand. "What?"

"Aren't you forgetting something, brother?"

Stefan's green gaze flickered over his brother's face, a tiny crinkle going between his thick brows as several things went through his mind on exactly _what_ he wasn't telling Damon, but that wasn't exactly what his brother asked him. It was a technicality but Stefan was going to take it. "Forget what?" What would confronting him about Andie do but make things tense and terse between them? Meredith would most certainly cause trouble and at least one death—hers. And the dreams about his doppelganger... he hadn't had any since the weekend so there was no point in rehashing and reawakening the nightmares; that was all Stefan could think to call them.

Damon didn't seem to appreciate the throwback and he didn't move away either. "Try again."

Stefan sighed. "Whatever messed-up guessing game this is, can we please play it some other time? I really need to get Salvatore back into his bowl."

Damon's expression took on a contemplative guise. He drew a curled finger knuckle up Stefan's peck, collecting the blood from a small leak that bled from the feeding bite and sucked it off without blinking. He clapped Stefan lightly on the side of his neck and swept his other arm out to grant him leave, his knuckle shiny with saliva.

Stefan looked at him for a moment before he moved back toward the chair. He tossed his clothes and sling over his right shoulder, shot Damon one last look before he left the parlor, his lips pursed. What did Damon know, or pretend that he knew to draw some sort of confession out of Stefan? He sighed and collected Salvatore and the fishbowl from the entryway and made his way upstairs to his bedroom, annoyed that the only way to find out was to confess something.

For a resolution to stop secret-keeping, they sure seemed to be stacking up in short order. And he couldn't even truthfully claim to have divested himself to his journal—well, certainly not Meredith and he couldn't defend himself and claim he never had the chance because he was over at Elena's because Bonnie had thoughtfully packed it for him when she got his things. Even if he did want to, he couldn't run the risk that Damon wouldn't eventually read it despite having said that he wouldn't any more; he was still Damon and he was still a big brother. When it came to those positions, the line was very blurred in regard to Stefan as his baby brother. Stefan knew he had mentioned Andie in his journal at least once and an innumerable amount were about the nightmares and dreams he'd been having; technicality pardoned him, but it also condemned his sensitive conscious.

He sighed heavily and headed straight for his en suite and set Salvatore on the sink counter and tossed his clothes on the rack. He dealt with the fishbowl first, draining the remaining water and refilled it under the tap about 1/2 full, setting it on the counter. He got the drop bottle of dechlorinator that he kept in his medicine cabinet and added it to the water. While he left the water to normalize with a small thermometer hooked onto the lip of the bowl in the water, he set to quick work on cleaning Damon's feeding bite; it as a rote process by now, wiping up the blood, cleaning the wound and then slapping it under cover of a beige Band-Aid. He tossed the blood soiled waste into the small trashcan and pulled his v-neck tee back on. Stefan put the plug in the sink and put the freezer bag in it balanced upright and undid the Ziplock. He grabbed his journal from his bedroom and sat on the closed toilet seat, ankle crossed at his knee with the book in his lap, writing to wait through the time.

His shoulder was acting up and his neck was sore by the time he closed his journal, 5 pages in, front and back each. He hadn't had the chance to write anything about what happened last night, or what would be happening every morning for who knew how long; he guessed he really needed to. He wrapped the leather cord back around the journal and set it on a pile of towels on the rack. He rubbed at his nape and right crook as he stood, going back over to the sink and checking the water temperature in the fishbowl. It was just right so he poured water from the Ziplock back into the bowl, filling it the rest of the way, with Salvatore to, then dumped the rest down the sink, hanging the bag over the lip to drain. He opened the medicine cabinet and swallowed a muscle relaxer.

Salvatore darted around his familiar surroundings, brushing against the astronaut figurine in greetings. Stefan smiled, content to watch him for a moment. "Welcome home, buddy," he murmured, putting him in his place on the shelf above his bureau.

His stomach growled for his attention and he glanced at the clock. It was 7 and he still hadn't eaten dinner. He headed down to the kitchen and hoped Damon wouldn't start up again.

Stefan took out a couple salmon fillets, preheated the oven, and heated a skillet over a medium flame. He made a quick sauce with butter, oil, garlic, lemon zest and juice, seared the salmon, tossed in trimmed asparagus and threw it all in the oven. There was a perfect Merlot eyeing him from the wine fridge and he couldn't resist a good pairing. He got the corkscrew from the drawer and with the bottle held tight and secure to his body with his right arm, he started to firmly twisted the opener into the cork.

" _Tsktsk_ ," Damon's scold gave the brunette pause in his task and he glanced up at his big brother. "And what do we have here?"

"It's just a glass with dinner, not like I'm smuggling whisky under my shirt," he deadpanned. Stefan gave the corkscrew another firm twist. Damon pulled the bottle out of his arm. "I'm having wine, Damon."

"Relax, Paula, just making sure you don't put an eye out. You're already down one limb." He twisted it a final time and easily popped the cork.

Stefan glowered but automatically pulled two wine glasses hanging from the rack and held them out for Damon to fill. "I'm not crippled, I'm just human."

"Same thing, isn't it?" he snarked. Damon took the glass whose stem was held delicately in Stefan's right fingertips.

Stefan rolled his eyes. "I made salmon. There's enough if--"

"I already have the wine, don't I?" he winked, dramatically pulled open the sliding doors to the dining room and disappeared inside with his glass of wine _and_ the bottle for good measure.

Stefan couldn't stop the little smile at the corner of his mouth. When the oven timer went off, he took the skillet out with an oven mitt and plated the salmon and asparagus, drizzling the remaining sauce in the pan over the fish. In his right hand, he carried the silverware with the stem of his wineglass at his fingertips, and carried one plate in his left hand, the other balanced on his wrist just like a waiter.

There was a soft circle of candlelight at one end of the dinning table, the rest of the room dark. "You couldn't just turn on the chandelier?" Stefan questioned, freeing his right hand briefly to set the plate balanced on his wrist in front of Damon before taking his wineglass, fork, and remaining plate to the opposite side across his brother and sat.

"And mess with the atmosphere of this amorous occasion?" Damon teased, taking his first bite.

"You mean I feed you twice in the span of 3 hours and my recompense is your precious company?" Stefan mocked in return despite it not being a real complaint; it was nice to spend time with his brother without blood or concern.

"Precisely," he quipped. "Now who exactly is reaping the better reward here, brother, hm?"

Stefan could only give a slightly amused, lightly exasperated huff in answer and turned to his much needed dinner.

**_~ T V D ~_ **

When Stefan got up this morning, he didn't even bother to get dressed before he headed downstairs; he'd had quickly come to look at it as a wasted effort when he needed to feed Damon in the mornings now. He had water instead of his morning coffee as he ate breakfast after which he fed Damon and also reminded him that he needed to drink some regular blood, too (in a way, it was almost matrimonial) before he came upstairs to shower. He stood naked in the shower, blood slowly dripping from his elbow onto the dry shower tile and his toes from the fresh bite on his bicep as he taped the bag around his cast before turning the showerhead on.

Stefan dried himself off after stepping out of the shower and wrapped the towel around his waist. He peeled off the bag taped over his cast and swiped the palm of his left hand over the steamed up mirror above the sink. There was no trace of Alaric's fangs over Damon's on his wrist. His gaze flickered to his reflection in the streaked mirror; the feeding bites scattered across his upper torso and neck were exposed and looked raw after his shower, but his gaze settled sadly on one in particular—Damon's new punctures also obliterated Alaric's older ones at the crook of his neck from Tuesday's feed.

Ric hadn't been over since Monday. They'd barely talked and they only saw each other in passing at school where they couldn't do anything _real_ with it. Stefan missed him. Missed him in bed, curled against his side. Missed the taste of his lips and the feeling of his stubble. Missed the touch of his hands, looking into his eyes, the sound of his voice. How he smelt. The feel of his mouth when he fed. Stefan wished he could just claim the front row seat in front of his desk, satchel tossed onto the next seat over and just watch the teacher grade papers with that damn pen to make him jealous and ache.

Stefan reached his left hand up and clasped it over the wound on his crook, his wrist turning inward. If he turned just so, he could have almost imagined he was unblemished, clean, but as the frame of steam on the mirror slowly shrunk as the bathroom fan sucked out the moist warmth, the image was disproved as the bite on top of his left shoulder came into view, or the one high on his left bicep. He dropped his arm and completely finished shattering the picture before he also dropped his gaze from the reflection.

He shaved quickly, focusing on the lower half of his face and avoiding his own eyes. He was careful on his neck around Damon's double-bite with its odd accelerated healing while the others still had fresh, soft scabs, some of which he had accidentally scrubbed off in his shower, making them sting anew and weep. As soon as he was done, he pulled out several large Band-Aid's from the near-empty box already sat on the counter and with applied Polysporin, he covered the bites like hiding a shame because in a way they were. They were there because of a mess he started because he couldn't just be... _normal._ But that was simply a concept never really afforded to him, no matter how hard he pretended. He styled his hair and was finally blessedly able to turn from the mirror as he went back into his bedroom and dressed, his sling going on. He grabbed his satchel and went downstairs to wait for Elena out front.

Stefan paused for a moment and stared at the waiting travel mug and small container of dry muesli that sat on the side table in the entryway, two things that hadn't been there before, and two things he certainly hadn't the time to prepare and put there after breakfast. A grateful appreciation swelled silently in his chest as he took them out with him.

Elena gave him her now ritualistic once-over as he got into the SUV before pulling from the house and down the drive. "Mind if I eat this?" Stefan asked, the container balanced on his leg as he put the travel mug in the cup holder after taking a much needed drink of caffeine.

Elena glanced over with a shake of her head but asked, "Did you miss breakfast?"

Stefan pulled off the lid and used the plastic spork nestled inside. "No, but let's just call this... Breakfast Part 2."

The corner of her mouth flickered into a frown. "Are you doing okay?"

"Yes," he said. Elena sighed quietly, her gaze trained on the road. Stefan paused in his eating and looked over at her. "What?"

She didn't look at him and gave her head a little shake. "Nothing,"

"Elena--"

"Maybe Bonnie will believe you when she asks."

Stefan sighed and poked at the muesli with the spork for a moment. "I miss Ric," he blurted.

"What?" she looked at him in surprise.

"I'm sorry, that was--"

"No, no. Stefan," she stopped him, "When I say you can tell me anything, talk to me about anything... I really mean it, okay?" Elena reached over and squeezed his upper arm, he jolted involuntarily as her thumb pressed over the feeding bite that had still been weeping 10 minutes ago when he put the Band-Aid on it. She yanked her hand away as if she had been burned. "Oh, god, Stefan, I didn't mean to hurt you!" she exclaimed in horror.

"Elena, I'm alright." He quickly tried to reassure, but her shoulders were tense and her knuckles where white with how tight she was clutching the steering wheel as she drove. "You just pressed again this morning's feeding bite, that's all." He put the muesli on the dashboard and carefully reached across and laid his hand on her bare forearm, gently rubbing up and down to soothe her and not distract her from the road. "That's below even stepping on my toes on the Oops! Scale."

"Stop being so chivalrous," she complained but shot him a grateful glance as the alarm leaked from her shoulders as he gave her arm a warm squeeze. She swallowed and admitted, "I hate that I can hurt you now."

"I was always able to get hurt, Elena." He whispered.

She shook her head in denial, her loose hair waving with it. "Not like _this_. You were practically immortal, Stefan. You defied every basic human fear that we all have, that most of us had experienced or soon will. You defied death. And now..." Elena swallowed against the lump in her throat even as gathering tears wet her eyes. "It's frightening how easy it is to lose you now!"

"Elena, pull over." Stefan said.

"What?"

"You can’t drive and cry at the same time," he told her gently.

"Right." Elena sniffed. She pulled over to the dirt shoulder of the road and turn the car off. She looked into her lap and wiped at her eyes with the heels of her hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

Stefan shook his head, unclipping his seatbelt and pulling the sling off overhead. "Come here," he urged with open arms.

She struggled with the release for a moment with the tears flooded in her eyes before she threw herself across the center console into his arms. Her face buried against his neck, her skinny arms held him fiercely as the dam broke and she tried to stifle her sobs against skin. "I'm sorry, I'm being so stupid," her voice came out muffled.

His cast wrapped around her waist, holding her against him and his left hand stroked the back of her head, his cheek pressed against her crown. "You're not being stupid, Elena." He hushed. "You're scared and worried and frustrated that you don't think you can do anything about it. Everyone gets stressed and cries sometimes." If he let himself, he didn't think he would ever stop.

"I'm worried about you with everything that's been going on. When Bonnie told me Katherine killed you, it was like losing my parents all over again. It hurt just to breathe. And now, something keeps happening and then another and another... but it has to stop somewhere, right? Eventually it's gonna stop somewhere good, right?" Elena pleaded.

Stefan squeezed his eyes closed against his own prick of tears. _This is just the beginning_ , he thought but didn't have the heart to tell her. "As long as you or anyone I love is alive, I will never stop fighting," he promised, "No matter what happens."

Elena believed him and sagged against him in relief. "I know you will," she murmured. Stefan's suicide-attempt-guild reared its ugly head and he attempted to shove it down. Elena let herself hug him for another moment before she forced herself to let him go and sat back, wiping at her cheeks. "I think I got your Band-Aid wet," she gave a watery chuckle.

Stefan reached up and touched the bandage, which was damp from Elena's tears. "It's okay, I have extras in my bag." And without thinking about it, he picked at the edge and pulled the Band-Aid off.

She sucked in a sharp breath. "Stefan, that looks--"

"Worse than it is," he assured her. He pulled a new Band-Aid from his satchel and pulled down the visor to look in the small mirror.

"Here," she said and he started to protest but she'd already snatched the Band-Aid and peeled it open. He sat still for her despite embarrassment urging him to quickly cover it like a shameful hickey. She examined the bite for a moment, her thumb lightly brushing nearby skin. She gulped. "Are they all like this?"

"No," he managed to voice, though his voice was quiet. "It's where he first fed at Shadowland Vortex, but then by Monday his body was so shut down that his fangs wouldn't come out so he had to reopen it and have some blood before he could feed properly."

Elena shuddered, unable to help but be disturbed, "You mean he used his _human teeth_?"

"He didn't have much of a choice, Elena." He uttered.

She felt shame at his tone. "I know, it just-- it's _different_ when it fangs, you know?" she peeled the cover off the face of the Band-Aid and carefully laid it over the bite on Stefan’s neck.

"Trust me, I know." He said wryly to put them both back at ease. "Fangs are meant to pierce skin, flat human teeth not so much." He smoothed his hand briefly over the bandage and flipped the visor back up. Stefan looked at her, taking her hand in his left and interlacing their fingers on the center console, "It's nothing to worry about."

She tore her gaze from the side of his neck, pushing back the imagery of the bite on his bicep, his wrist and anywhere else she couldn't currently see at the moment. Elena gave him a weak smile. "You wanted to talk about Alaric?"

"If it means I can miss Bonnie’s daily morning inquisition," Stefan tried to joke but his audience wasn't currently very amenable to the joke. He searched her gaze for a moment seriously and seeing that she really did want to know and seemed comfortable enough to be his sounding board and lament to, said: "I miss Ric. We haven't really seen each other or spoken since Monday, and I get why he hasn't been coming over—he and Damon just aren't good in a room together right now. It didn't always used to be like that; they used to share a glass of bourbon, they even used to joke—mostly at my expense, but they got along." He sighed. "But ever since the blood sharing started..." he shook his head. "Blood transfusions between human isn't considered... _intimate_ , but sharing blood is with vampires—even when it **isn't** , it really **is**. Do you understand what I mean?" Elena was quiet as she thought about what he said, glancing at his neck again—and suddenly Stefan registered a warmth blushing her olive-cheeks. He cocked a thick eyebrow at her. "Do I even want to know what image just popped into your mind right then?" he wondered drily.

Elena clean her throat in embarrassment. "Let's just say, yes, I think I understand what you mean and it's safe to I can sympathize why Alaric may have reacted to the way he has to all of this." Jealousy, relationship insecurity—she could definitely understand and sympathize.

Stefan rubbed a hand over his face. "I know it's only been a few days--"

"You're not being stupid," she told him as he had her. She spoke quietly, "He's your boyfriend, you want to be with him, I understand. You'll figure it out, Stefan, you always do." Elena encouraged, turning the engine over and putting her seatbelt back on.

"Yeah. Like you said, we love each other..." he pulled the belt over his shoulder and buckled in. "I'm sure I'll think of something when my brain kicks in," he remarked wryly, pointedly taking a drink from his travel mug and causing Elena to quirk a small smile as she pulled from the dirt shoulder and back onto the road.

...

When they finally made it to school, Elena pulled into student parking and the empty space waiting right beside a blue Prius that just happened to have a witch sitting in it waiting just for them.

"I feel like you planned this," Stefan remarked to Elena's amusement as he watched the young Bennett get out of her car and come around to them, giving a small wave and smile as she waited.

"Coincidence," Elena crossed her heart even as she chuckled at Stefan's glower.

Stefan drained the remaining coffee in the travel mug, stuffed the container of remaining muesli into his bag and got out of the vehicle.

"Morning," Bonnie greeted. "You guys are running late."

"Not late enough," Stefan mumbled under his breath, setting his satchel on the hood of the SUV and slipping the sling back on.

Bonnie raised a brow at him and Elena explained a little self-consciously, "That was my fault. I made myself upset and cry and Stefan gave the wise wisdom to pull over."

"What, are you okay?" the first thing Bonnie did was hug her.

"Mm-hm." Elena nodded, chin on her friend's shoulder, hugging her back and appreciating the comforting gesture.

"Stefan?" Bonnie asked, looking over at the other brunette.

"Yeah, I know. It was my fault. I have a tendency to make the people I care about either cry or angry."

"Stefan, that's not--!" Elena protested.

Stefan slung his satchel over his shoulder and went to walk passed the pair, but Bonnie with an arm still around Elena, reached out with her other hand and snagged Stefan's left hand, halting him in place. "That's not what we meant," the witch informed him softly.

"I'm sorry. That was--" Bonnie gently pulled him to them and he hugged them to his chest, his left arm around Elena, holding onto Bonnie's elbow and resting his cheek on her crown. "Sorry," he repeated.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm okay. I had 2 breakfasts this morning."

"And Damon?" her tone was a little more curt on that question as it always was.

"Damon's good, too." Stefan answered. "He drank my blood this morning, like he's supposed to and he drank some regular blood, too." They finally pulled apart. "Do we really have to do this every morning?"

"Yes," she said, but not meanly. "I want to make this as short as possible for you, Stefan. No mistakes. I'll come over this weekend and check his 'aura', see if we can start lowering his doses, alright?"

"Okay." He nodded.

And finally, blessedly, the morning warning bell rang to start off the school day.

...

The final bell rang and Stefan briefly stopped by Elena's locker to tell her that he would be a few minutes late and would meet her at the car as the halls emptied.

Satchel hanging from his shoulder, arm around the strap and clenched hand stuffed into his zip hoodie pocket, Stefan came to a stop at the history classroom. The classroom was empty of students, the door ajar and there was Alaric, sorting through a messy pile of handed in papers. Stefan waited for some sort of sign, some kind of acknowledgement of his presence—Alaric always knew when he was there yet the vampire studiously focused on his task. Stefan pursed his lips against the sharp stab of heartache at the purposeful show of ignorance to his presence, his fingernails digging into his palm. That was a passive-aggressive cold shoulder if he ever experienced one.

Stefan stepped back and turned away. He breathed deeply through his nose, trying to keep himself in check as he walked down the quiet hall to the front door passed the few remaining students, locking it down by the time he made it to student parking.

Elena straightened from where she'd been leaning against the hood of her SUV, stowing her cell phone in her pocket as she saw him coming. "You okay?" she asked, sensing something off.

"Yeah. Sorry you had to wait," Stefan climbed into the passenger seat.

Elena frowned to herself as she strapped into the driver's side. "It's no problem. I have to stop for gas," she pulled out of the school lot.

"Okay."

"Do you want to hang out for a little bit?" she probed gently, his face turned to stare out the passenger window.

"Thanks, but I'm kinda tired."

"Okay," she turned her attention back to the road, shooting glances his way. Any attempts to start a conversation on the way to the Boarding House were shut down with short, uninformative responses from the other doppelganger.

When Stefan got home, the driveway was empty, Damon's car gone, his own tucked away in the garage. He leaned back heavily against the closed front door as he chocked back a hitched sob in his chest as his psyche seemed to take his solitude as a starter pistol to **let it out**. _But I have nothing to break down about_ , he told himself and pushed from the door.

Alaric needed time and Stefan needed a plan.

...

Stefan went to bed before 11 like he usually did the past few days, but ended up laying awake in bed in the dark as the glowing minutes switched by on his alarm clock.

They had scratched the surface of understanding and acceptance on Monday; but they hadn't the time and the space that they needed to really hit it home. Stefan knew that just because you _understood_ , it didn't mean it still didn't hurt and make you angry. He needed to be alone with Alaric—and away from Damon.

It was almost 2 in the morning before he was finally able to nod off.

**_~ T V D ~_ **

Despite barely getting 6 hours of sleep, Stefan awoke Friday morning with determination and a plan.

He went downstairs to the kitchen in flannel bottoms. "Can you feed from somewhere old?" he asked Damon. "I have my check-up appointment today and I don't want any new Band-Aids." He ducked into the fridge, perusing for what to eat for breakfast. "And not from my neck," he added.

"No love-bites above the collar? That stings, baby." Damon's mocking tone was across the kitchen, but when Stefan straightened from the fridge with a jar of overnight oats in hand, his big brother's chest was against his back. Arms wrapped around him and he was suddenly spun, the fridge door swinging shut and was pressed forward against the island counter. "My fangs just love your pretty little carotid." Damon's breath brushed the side of his neck.

Before Stefan could say anything sarcastic and scolding, his eyes caught the used Band-Aid already discarded on the countertop in front of him and Damon was sinking his fangs into his shoulder. Stefan swallowed and closed his eyes, it was almost where Ric fed from him the very first time on the library couch. If he thought back to the handful of times Damon had fed from him, the one in the hallway from his wrist was the one that struck a cord with Stefan. He remembered how... _gentle_ Damon had been when he bit, how cautious he had fed, the search for acceptance in his ice blue eyes. Stefan couldn't help but wonder why that situation had been made so different from all the others, not that he was overly unkind with the rest.

Damon released him, but was still close. "Full up day, brother. You have a date with hot doctor lady and I have my own meeting with a particular blond sheriff myself. Don't bite off more than you can chew," his chuckle was a breath of air as he rapped his knuckles on the counter, spun on his heel and headed out the swing door.

"D--" Stefan sighed, looking after his brother for a moment; he still wasn't sure if Damon somehow _knew_ or he was just taking shots in the dark and fucking with him. He reached across the counter and pulled off a few paper towel from the role and pressed it to his bleeding shoulder before he grabbed a spoon, hooked his bare foot around the stool leg to pull it under him and started on his breakfast. He did have a busy day, with just a few big ducks he needed to get into a row.

After he finished breakfast, Stefan cleaned up his shoulder and dressed, and did a few little extra things after he fed Salvatore and made it outside as Elena pulled up.

"I have my appointment third period," Stefan told her on the drive. "You don't have to worry about driving me home."

"Oh, okay."

...

Stefan had lunch at school with the others, but when the bell rang instead of going to his locker to get his books for Social Studies (he'd asked Matt to keep notes for him), he packed his satchel, went against the flow of students and out the front school doors. It was only a 10 minute walk through downtown to Mystic Falls Hospital were he came in through the main entrance instead of emergency (the only time since he'd been turned human 6 months ago, not a very good track record on his part but at least he got 1 one the board), followed the signs to X-Ray, showed his health insurance card to the nurse at the station and sat to wait in the small waiting room that was occupied by a few others (a man with crutches and a young girl in a above-elbow cast in neon pink and scattered with scribbles and well-wishes from friends waiting with her mother).

Stefan was finally called in 20 minutes after his original appointment time and lead to the X-Ray room. The technician had him take the sling off, gave him a lead vest to wear but no gown to change into and positioned his arm on the table, adjusted the machine above it and went into the protected control room to take the pictures. After, he was left to wait in a similar exam room to before, but not the same one.

He eyed the exam table but sat in one of the chairs against the wall to wait, his satchel and sling sitting on the other chair. His left knee started to bounce slightly as he was left with the tick of the seconds hand of the clock and the occasional garbled piece of conversation going passed the closed door. He surreptitiously adjusted the collar of his shirt to obscure the Band-Aid on the broad side of his throat and make sure the one on his crook was covered with his chosen number of fastened buttons.

He'd woken up determined and set in his course, but now that he was at a principal point in his plan, left to wait, the anxiety was trying to trickle in. His plan didn't _hinge_ on Meredith's cooperation, he could do the task himself easily enough, but if something _did_ go wrong it was nice to have a trained medical professional there who would actually be able to make sure he didn't die. Stefan was sure he would be able to convince her to comply to his request as long as she didn't discover the whole truth; last she'd seen him he had 3 feeding bites, 2 which were covered with Band-Aids, now a week later he had 5 Band-Aids, 4 out of 5 which were doubled-up leaving with a total count of 9 bites. The amount of blood loss he'd had in the last week was only medically safe spread out through 224 days. Add this to the count and it will be 5 pints in 8 days, with 1 and a half today but if everything went according to plan, Stefan would have the weekend with just Ric and no blood loss.

When Meredith finally came, Stefan nearly jumped in his chair.

"Stefan!" Meredith gave him a friendly smile as she shut the door, a large folder tucked under arm; Stefan could already see her instinctive assessing gaze. "It's good to finally see you again, how have you been doing?"

"Good," Stefan stood. "You must be pretty busy."

She chuckled. "That does happen now and again, the downside to being a doctor, you could say." She went over to the light board and stuck up the x-rays from under her arm. "The images look good, there doesn't appear to be any shifting, the bones are still in a good position." Meredith turned to him. "How’s your pain level been?"

"It's hardly even noticeable. I took the pain meds only on the weekend to help my sleep those first nights." Lot of good that did, Stefan was sure he would have been better off with pain-induced nightmare than the drug-induced ones he experienced; pain he knew.

She nodded. "That's exactly what they were for." She patted the exam table and he reluctantly sat on it. "How's the shoulder?"

"Not as bad as it was. It still gives me a bit of trouble, especially if I sleep wrong.”

"Alright, I'll just take a look at it. Can you take your shirt off for me?" Stefan tensed for a second before he unbuttoned his shirt completely; he had obviously overlooked this. Keeping a hold of the left side of his shirt, he pulled off the right side and left it hanging. Thankfully all the bites were contained to the left side of his body. She didn't comment on the odd follow through of her instruction and examined him, rotating his shoulder. "Any discomfort or pain?"

"Only a little."

She nodded and released him and he put his shirt back on. "I'll write you a refill; take them as needed." She pulled out her prescription pad from her white coat.

Stefan took a breath. "You said before that I can trust you."

She looked up, serious. "I did. You can."

"I need to get a pint of my blood drawn and take it with me."

Meredith looked at him for a moment, completely caught off guard by his request. "Stefan," she said carefully, putting her pad back into her pocket, "If the vampires need blood, I _can_ get them blood bags. You don't ha--"

"A blood bag supply is not the problem; we get the from blood banks in other counties. It needs to be my blood. I can't explain why, I'm not ready to. Can you... do this?"

"Stefan, I'm not comfortable--"

"You give vampire blood to your patients." Stefan pointed out, an underlining hardness to the words; he still wasn't comfortable with her confession.

"I only use vampire blood in extenuating circumstance," she defended herself and her choices. "It saves people, giving them a second chance at their lives they wouldn't have had otherwise. It saves their loved ones the terrible grief of losing them."

"Well for me, this is my extenuating circumstance. I need a pint of my blood. I made the decision to ask you first, but I can just as easily do it myself." He stood from the table.

"No, no." She held up her hand, stopping him. "Just-- let me think for a second." She turned her back to him and busily pulled the x-ray sheets from the board.

Stefan carefully watched her. He didn't like putting her in a corner, forcing her decision, but this was the only way to give Damon the blood that he would need without Stefan having to be there and allowing the brunette a private weekend with his boyfriend that was very sorely needed.

Meredith scribbled on the pad and tore off the written prescription. She turned to Stefan and handed it to him, resolve in her brown eyes. "If I agree to do this," she clarified, "It would only be after you let me go through the regular check-up that we do for donors before they donate. Are we agreed?"

Stefan nodded his agreement and tucked the prescription into his shirt breast pocket. He was hopeful, but practical; despite his efforts to eat iron rich foods, stay hydrated, and well rested, he knew he had to be slightly anaemic after the past 5 days. Hopefully it wasn't by enough to cause alarm and the doctor to call it off.

"Sit back on the table, please." Meredith pulled over the wheeled BP monitor stand and wrapped the inflatable cuff around his left upper arm, put the pulse monitor clamp on his index finger, and the thermometer under his tongue. When it beeped, she took it from his mouth. "Your temperature looks good. Your blood pressure _is_ a bit low," she stressed, "And your heart rate a bit fast."

Then came the blood prick test to check his haemoglobin levels, that was what worried him the most. She was frowning at the results, but Stefan caught a glance at the readout. "It's low, but I'm still within range," he pointed out with a quiet sigh of relief.

Meredith glanced at him, clearly not as happy about it as he was. "Yes, you managed to sneak just inside the acceptable margins for donation," she allowed with clear reluctance. Stefan suspected that she may have even lied if he didn't know what he was on about. "Stefan," she started, but sighed in the face of his expression; it was better that she did it where she could monitor him than if he went off to do it himself.

She adjusted the exam table, got her equipment convenient stored in the trolley against the wall and the process went quick in her skilled, latex-gloved hands. Meredith didn't even have to put an ounce of effort into finding a vein even before she tied the rubber tourniquet around his bicep above his elbow, like they were eager for her to bleed them dry. Iodine stained his skin and she taped the large gauge needle in place, unclamping the tube; it immediately ran red with his blood as the bag started to fill.

"With your steady flow, it shouldn't even be 10 minutes before it's full," Meredith commented. She turned back to the prep tray and Stefan watched her pick up a vacutain tube, knowing exactly her intention.

"No sample." Stefan said. It wasn't like the hospital hadn't run his blood when he came down with that heavy fever at the end of November after he was changed back human, but Damon had used compulsion on every doctor, nurse, technician, orderly and staff that would have any kind of interaction with him; be it physically tending him or running his blood. So, even if something... preternatural was discovered, nothing would come of it—from that discovery angle at least. If his blood was different now, after all these months, after all the changes his body has been through, there was no compulsion to save Meredith, who at the very least, knew of vampires.

So, this was as much about saving her life as it was he wasn't ready to face that scenario about himself yet. He had other things to worry about and now he was starting to regret trusting her to this.

"Stefan, I need to test--"

"I'm not donating to another human," he reminded her. "Disease in the blood doesn't effect vampires and beside that, my blood is clean. Just look at the results from my last visit."

"Yes, I've seen your record, Stefan. But I also know that those test were drawn 6 months ago. As a doctor, as _your_ doctor, I have a duty--"

"Have you ever looked at vampire blood?" Stefan asked her suddenly, making her pause. "Looked at a sample under a microscope, I mean. You are a doctor, you had to have been curious when you were first told about them."

"You're right," she answered after a moment. "When I found out what vampire blood could do, how it _healed_ , I wanted to know... so, when I managed to get my first sample, I did try to study it."

"And did you find anything?" Stefan asked, genuinely curious.

"I really was determined to find out just how it ticked, but it wasn't very long before I realized I just didn't have the educational background or the expertise a discovery like that entails, nor was there anyone that I trusted to do it knowing the truth."

"It's magic, Meredith." Stefan said softly. "There's no truth to find. It's nature, it's the universe. It's life. And maybe there are things that we aren't to truly understand and need to accept." The hypocrisy rang sharply in his ears.

"Still," she added wryly, "It's in our nature to try. I might not know how vampire blood heals on a scientific level, but it does incredibly things that we as a species cannot replicate in this generation or the next but that's not a reason to fear and shun, kill vampires when they have such a gift to healing. Really, vampires could have a truly lucrative possible eternity without the need of compulsion and violence if more of them realized just how valuable their blood is to the people in the know."

That made Stefan pause and Meredith looked like she just realized she accidentally said more than she should have. "You have people that get you vampire blood," he realized slowly. "A vampire blood **supplier.** How--?" how could they not know about this, or even have heard rumours about it? Stefan at least had the excuse of staying out of vampire social circles other than what he got second-hand from his Lexi Circle; Damon definitely had less of an excuse, the social little vampire. Damon didn't care about other vampire lives, he made that clear when he framed Lexi (his best-friend not withstanding) for his devious, depraved vampire killing spree to get an infallible in on the Founders Council but if there was any way that these... vampire blood dealers' business were to even breathe against his bubble (and his bubble was wherever Damon decided it was at any given time) then Damon's reputation would come out to play, and Damon always played serious. It was just another thing on the list to keep from Damon that he would inevitably find out at the worse possible time and it wouldn't matter how tight you held your ears because it wouldn't prevent the many, many heads from rolling. Yeah, Stefan's New Year's Resolutions List was growing shorter and shorter by default. " _Who_?" was the more important answer.

"That's _my_ secret, Stefan. I haven't asked you what you're so unwilling to tell me, but I am blindly trusting you that you're not up to something devious or dangerous."

"Me? You're the one with sketchy blood dealers." Stefan said incredulous. "How can I trust that one day Damon and Ric aren't just going to go suddenly missing because of your _dealings_?" he demanded angrily.

"I don't know, Stefan..." She murmured quietly but she set the vacutain tube back down on the tray and left the rest unsaid. "I'll go and grab you a snack and drink, you'll be done by the time I get back."

Stefan silently nodded, staring at the door a second after she'd already left, the corners of his mouth tight. He turned his head, gaze falling to the blood bag steadily growing plump with his blood. He should be more worried about each millilitre slowly being drained than about something he had no notion of until 2 minutes, how it really should be no different than Damon drinking straight from the vein—but it was. This wasn't just blood, this was hope. Hope for his and Ric's relationship. Stefan slowly squeezed the foam ball in his hand, helping his blood along further. This blood bag equalled 2 less feeding bites marking his skin, it equalled 2 days alone with Alaric. They needed this—Stefan needed this. He subconsciously squeezed a little harder.

"Sweetie? Stefan." Stefan forced his gaze from the blood and to Meredith hovering next to him, not having realized she had returned. "You feeling alright?" she clamped the tube to stop the drain, and briefly touched the back of her hand to his forehead and cheeks, reminding him of the nurse when he first woke up in the hospital after his fever and human.

"I feel fine," he told her, letting her take his left arm. Tired, of course, but then weary had been his body's current default setting all week, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle or push through.

Meredith removed the needle from his arm and pressed a small gauze square to the bleed, elevating his arm to rest against her as she wrapped a piece of purple adhesive stretch tape to keep the pressure and laid his back down on the his chest. She secured the blood bag, the anticoagulant automatically mixed in as the blood fed through the filter, letting the rest of the blood drain from the tube into the bag before disconnecting it. "I'm not stupid enough to believe that those Band-Aids I saw last Friday night didn't gain any company since," she told Stefan as she worked. "And I can't make your stop what you're doing, as much as I may want to, but, Stefan, if they care about you, about your health, they'll ease off the feeding. Yes, you're young and you're healthy, but you can't sustain _two_ vampires' feeding habits."

"I'm not sustaining their feeding habits," Stefan informed. "You don't have to worry about me... Death doesn't seem to agree with me." He said wryly.

"Stefan," she uttered sombrely.

"Sorry, gallows humour."

"Of course I'll worry, Stefan, even if I wasn't a doctor." Meredith gave him a bottle of water and handy bag of kale chips. "Eat and drink. I want you rest for at least half-an-hour before you leave." Stefan did as she ordered, politely watching her as she cleaned up; he knew they should talk about the whole blood dealers situation, but it didn't seem an immediate worry so he shelved it in anticipation of his next task as soon as he got out of here. "Here's another prescription for iron supplements," she told him when it was finally go-time. "As much as I might want to, I can't stop you without exposing us all but I do hope you take my suggestion sincerely, Stefan, anaemia isn't something to trifle with."

"Trust me, I am taking it very seriously, Meredith."

...

Stefan left back out through the main entrance, his two prescriptions tucked into his satchel along with more precious cargo wrapped in a protective insulation bag. Stefan managed to hold himself back until he reached town square and found an empty bench by the statue, setting his satchel down beside him. He dug out his cell phone and responded quickly to Elena's missed text asking how it went with a thumbs-up emoji before scrolling down for Ric's name. The school day would have just ended and as the line continued to ring, Stefan started to wonder if he shouldn't have just waited until he got home (but he wanted to tell Alaric the plan before he got home and told Damon, who wouldn't like it but he didn't have to, he just had to accept it) when the line connected.

"Hello?" Stefan chuckled quietly with a smile at the sound of Alaric's voice across the line; not having heard it since Monday. "Stefan?"

"Hi," Stefan said, the smile on his face almost hurting it had been so unfamiliar lately. "Before you say anything—I've had an idea."

"Okay."

"We should go away for the weekend." He burst, then waited with bated breath.

"Stefan," came the wary tone but Stefan was not to be deterred.

"No, no, listen, I have a place. It's anice secluded cabin in Savannah. I know it's a 7 hour drive but we won't have to worry about being bothered by anyone, no one will know us, just us. W--"

"Don't forget the mosquito," Alaric said, but Stefan shook his head even though the vampire couldn't see.

"Don't worry, he won't be tagging along. I already have it figured out and done. I just had my appointment with Meredith and--"

"Stefan." Alaric’s tone had Stefan at full-stop and ramrod straight like a meerkat on high alert.

"What?"

The teacher sighed heavily. "I can't."

"Why not?" Stefan managed after a second.

"I got a call from Duke, they want me to guest lecture. It was last minute but I cleared it with the principal; I gotta drive up this weekend. Stefan?"

His heart was pounding, migrating up his throat. It made his feel nauseas and light-headed. Could Alaric hear it? "I can come with you," Stefan said quickly. "I'll just be another face in the crowd. It's not like our first time was a scandal, who's gonna care this time?" the brunette waited and each second that passed in silence made the pit in his stomach grow. "You don't want me to come," he made himself verbalize the realization.

"I just don't see the point," he admitted gently, but the blows rained down solid anyways. "You wouldn't be able to stay the whole week and I'd be too busy prepping the weekend for us to do anything."

_I don't care, I'm content to just sit quietly in the corner and watch you work_ — _I love watching you work_ — _just let me come,_ Stefan's mind screamed as he squeezed his eyes closed and pressed the phone face against his chest to stifle the mouthpiece as he took a painful deep breath, forcing the pain back down, distinctly realizing how vulnerable and out in the open he was right, truly wishing he'd waited until he got home or went to Alaric's apartment instead. He forced his eyes open and lifted the phone back to his ear, knuckles white. "I understand," his voice sounded remote. He saw behind the veil of Alaric's words, heard the truth of of what he couldn't say but meant. Oh, how he understood it.

"Stefan--"

"Just call me when you can." His breath sounded so loud in his ears. "When you're not... too busy."

"Stefan, I love you." Alaric told him steadfast. "I'll miss you. I love you."

_Just let me come!_ was his silent beg, instead, he whispered: "I love you, Ric."

They were still connected, but silence prevailed between them. Stefan remembered a time when he could have sat hours like this, just listening to Alaric breathe. He pulled the phone from his ear and disconnected the call. He bowed his head. He understood; it was why he had a hard time looking at his reflection in the mirror, why he couldn’t look at Damon's bites on his skin longer than necessary when he changed the Band-Aids. He understood, but that didn't mean it still didn't hurt like a stake to the heart. Alaric couldn’t stomach it, _him_ , at the moment.

The adrenaline that pumped through his heart in anticipation of this conversation took a sudden plummet, leaving him feeling light-headed. He attempted to breathe through it, l _ock it down_ , as his heart in his throat wanted to come out as one of two things, or maybe both, but they were entirely inappropriate to do in town square.

"Stefan?" the voice came from behind him. "I thought that was you."

_Fuck._ Stefan schooled his features and rose his head. "Sheriff Forbes,"

"Aren't you supposed to be in school right now?" she rose a blond brow as she came around the bench.

"I had a check-up at the hospital."

"Right. Caroline mentioned that you broke your arm." She said, her mom-gaze taking him in. "Are you sure you're doing okay, Stefan? You're looking a little peaked there. Do you want me to call Damon?"

"No, no. I'm okay." To reinforce the declaration he rose, only for black spots to swim in his vision and sit back down abruptly.

"No, you're not, Stefan." Liz corrected with clear disapproval. "If you won't let me call Damon, then at least let me or one of my deputies drive you back up to the Boarding House. You're not going to make it there in your state on your own."

And he found himself with her warm hand curled around his left bicep, helping him to his feet and guiding him steady to the cruiser parked at the curb, his satchel in her other hand. The ride to the Boarding House was silent but for the static burst of chatter over the radio, and the pressure thumping in his skull like he was in a chokehold as he tried to keep himself together. He tried to convince the Sheriff to drop him at the end of the drive but she drove up to the house and waited until he was inside before driving away.

Damon, blessedly, wasn't home yet.

Stefan took the blood bag from his satchel, dropping the school bag on the floor at the front door and walked down the hall to the kitchen. He buried the bag deep down in the bottom of the blood freezer in the basement, maybe he would get to use its hope another day, it just wasn't today.

He found himself upstairs in Damon's en suite. He stripped and sat in the large tub naked; put the plug in the drain and turned the hot water faucet on full. He hissed at the steaming, scalding temperature. He grabbed the scrub brush from the side and as the bath filled with scalding water, scrubbed. He scrubbed like he could clean his skin completely of Damon's bites, the water turning brown with blood and floating soggy Band-Aids and a purple strip tumbled around. It was like a crashing wave building in audio on his head and he scrubbed harder until he couldn't take it anymore and turned the faucet off but the sound and pressure didn't cease. He climbed from the bath, dripping wet to the sink, a towel around his waist and stared at his reflection in the mirror, chest panting.

He looked at himself.

One,

two,

three--

his expression contorted into an ugly rage and Stefan thought his eyes flashed black before his casted fist smashed into the mirror, shattering it, making him disappear as glass rained into the sink and over the marble counter. The pain was sharp through his broken arm and he gave a cry of pain, curling over his bloody arm hugged to his chest, and gasped in relief as he zeroed in on the physical pain, pulled himself from the inner turmoil, broke the pressure in his skull and anchored him.

Tears ran down his pallid cheek as he slowly straightened, arm still held to his chest, though it was of relief more than it was of pain. His gasp too, like he'd momentarily been drowning and managed to break to the surface, at least temporarily. He walked from Damon's bathroom and downstairs; fresh wet blood dripped down his chest, into the lining of his cast and onto the floor, carpet runners and hardwood, sometimes dripping on his toes. He left a trail through the house and out through the backdoor of the kitchen.

He found himself in that same spot, bare back against the sun-warmed stone of the back piazza, nothing but sky stretching out endless before him, the sun glaring in his eyes. His arm throbbed and ached, his fingers felt stiff and sticky, the glare in his retinas was exacerbating his headache back into a migraine—and he breathed.

This spot was not about reliving those 3 seconds of release, relief—freedom—(though Stefan imagined it would always be appealing, he refused). No, this was where he decided to stop being afraid, to strive to be happy because he deserved that too. That allowance for him to accept that vulnerability was as powerful as his epiphany at the quarry to choose not to let his body be his prison, both more powerful than a flimsy, broken list of resolutions on New Year's. He breathed. He needed that fortitude now again.

He knew the figure that loomed over him and blocked out the sun was Damon before the spots cleared from his gaze and the vampire remarked: "I don't even have to take a guess who put you in this sane little mood laying naked and bloody in one of your many suicide spots."

"Attempted suicide," Stefan corrected. "It was here I decided I didn't want to be miserable, that I didn't have to be."

"And how's that going for you?" was the mocking question.

Stefan sighed, looking up at his brother. "Terribly," was the true answer.

"Understatement of the century." Was in the place of Damon's encouragement. "I can say that and actually mean it, having been around for over a century, you know." He added.

"Yes," Stefan deadpanned. "I was there, too, remember?"

"And that's how you know it's true." Stefan pursed his lips. "Alright, alright. Boyfriend of the year aside... why the hell are you wasting all this blood? It's not like you can afford it."

Stefan sat up, arm in his lap staining Damon's cream, fluffy towel with blood (not that his brother realized that part yet), but it wasn't until he lumbered back onto his feet the light-headedness hit because Damon was right, he could ill afford it, especially today, having donated half a pint today at breakfast and another whole pint 2 hours ago, and his hand was still bleeding, sluggish as it might be. He discreetly widened his stance to better brace himself in lieu of grabbing Damon though there was little doubt his brother missed it with their close proximity. "I've been thinking about that, about the bites." Stefan said to him instead.

"Oh, we're in trouble now," Damon muttered.

He was ignored. "No more-- no more dine-and-dashing. Clean up your plate, take responsibility because I won't anymore—I _can't_ ," Stefan corrected.

Damon's gaze pointedly glanced down for a moment at the open, irritated, weeping fang punctures before looking back up at his brother. "Understatement."

Stefan scoffed, "Why can't you ever take anything seriously?" he shook his head in bitter disappoint as he stepped passed Damon back toward the kitchen door. He felt the towel come loose around his waist and it was a knee-jerk reaction; his hand shoot down to grab it, only for the rest of his body to involuntarily follow it.

Instead of hard stone he found his face pressed into Damon's hip, the vampire's arms curled around under his. Stefan groaned quietly as Damon hauled him to his feet. "Any time now, brother."

Stefan’s left-hand fingers clenched around the edge of the towel. "I can't, I only have one hand." His right hung useless at his side, a constant hot ache.

Damon groaned. "Christ, brother, you can't even take of yourself." But he swiftly reached around and wrapped the bloody towel around the brunette's waist. "You live to humiliate me."

" _You're_ humiliated?"

Damon pulled Stefan's left arm around his neck and carried him into the house and upstairs. He kicked the ajar bedroom door open and went over to the bed. Damon went to toss him onto his bed but Stefan clung. Damon sighed. "Really?"

"Really."

Damon sighed and pulled him into the en suite, pushing him onto the closed toilet. “And look, you got blood all over my clothes." He went to the sink and didn't even have to toss purposefully messy through the bottom cupboard for the first aid kit with it sitting there on the counter. "I come home to a trail of your blood through the house like rose petals leading me to you, your skin painted in, well, blood—you're the biggest tease I know, baby." He knelt in front of his brother, the kit on the floor next to him and gave his brother a quick survey; the hand would obviously need to be looked after first, and all the bits below the neck, the bite on his neck actually held up against Stefan's rough treatment and Damon could only figure it was the powers invested by the applied blood.

Damon irrigated Stefan's split knuckles, letting the blood was wash away onto the towel beneath. Stefan was still as Damon inspected it, he paused as he pulled out a single small shard of mirror... but the mirror behind him was whole and he distinctly remembered the trail of blood coming up the stairs. His fingers brushed over what _used_ to be a cream, fluffy towel and he looked sharply up at his brother in realization. "You didn't." He said sharply; Stefan's silent grimace was all the confirmation he needed and he blurred away. "Stefan!" the brunette winced this time at his brother's angry shout and knew just what horror Damon had flashed in upon. He'd already had to get the whole marble countertop replaced because of the chunk he'd smashed off in his anger after Stefan's little freefall off the roof, but Stefan hadn't really been thinking about _that_ when he'd smashed his reflection. When Damon blurred back into the en suite livid, he held up a purple strip dripping on the floor. "What the hell is this?"

"What the hell do you think it is? A bandage." Stefan grabbed it and threw it in the trashcan. "Look, I'm sorry about your bathroom--"

"First you try to drown yourself in my tub," Damon ranted, just as Stefan had hoped, "Now you try to skin yourself--"

"I wasn't trying to drown--"

"Why are you talking right now?" Stefan sighed and said nothing. "There's a good boy." He ticked off his fingers, "Drowning, skinning, you clearly don't appreciate the bathtub—and don't think I don't know you're trying to distract me, little brother." He pointed a sharp finger at the trashcan and the soggy purple adhesive bandage within, "Where the hell did you get that thing? And let's not forget what for, huh? You know, just to humour me."

"It's a bandage, if you haven't noticed, I've been wearing a lot of those lately." Stefan answered drily, being frustratingly, obviously obtuse and that really just made Damon want the answer all the more.

"Don't try and play me, Stefan Salvatore, I'll beat your ass every time." But he stilled for an instant as his gaze finally caught it, amid the brown dried blood down his arm, a tinge of yellow that didn't belong. His hand flashed forward and he grabbed Stefan's left forearm; there it was, beneath blood, the needle puncture and the dark bruising in a frame of iodine staining.

"Ow, Damon!" he hissed it protest at the bruising force.

"Where?" Damon hissed in demand.

"I had my check-up, reme--"

"What the fuck did that doctor bitch take?"

"Nothing she didn't give back." He retorted. Damon's fingers tightened; the pressure was painful enough that Stefan wished his arm would break just to feel the relief. "Damon, let go, you're hurting me," he said through gritted teeth.

"Good. Isn't that what you like? Isn't that what gets you off, baby? Why you had me give you that black eye, why you broke your finger, your arm, why you punched my mirror?" Damon's breath was hot across his face. "Why you scrubbed yourself raw, reopening my bites so they'd have to start healing all over again."

Stefan trembled with anger and humiliation. "You're wrong. I wanted to scrub them out of existence." _Maybe shatter myself out of it, too. Or back into it._

Damon stared at him for a minute, expression stone before he released Stefan's arm, jaw tight and knelt back down, turning his attention back to Stefan's right hand. He finished cleaning the cuts and wrapped a bandage around his knuckles in silence before starting on the bites; wrist first and working his way up, each soon disappearing under a skin-toned Band-Aid as he worked in silence. "Such a bloody waste," he finally muttered as he worked on Stefan's shoulder bite.

"Why don't you suck on one of the Band-Aids and stop complaining," Stefan retorted.

"Why don't we just cut out the middle man, baby, and I just lick it all off." Damon re-joined with a saucy smirk at the corner of his mouth.

Stefan cut him a sharp, unimpressed look. "You remember when all of this first started and I offered you my blood, you refused and said it was a little too brother-brother for your taste? Whatever happened to that attitude?"

"It departed about the same time your relationship started going downhill."

Stefan swung a fist but Damon easily caught it. "If I lose Ric because of these bites, I'll never forgive you." He swore.

Damon gently lowered his hand. "If he leaves you because of these bites, then he doesn't deserve you and I should have put him down a long time ago."

Stefan swallowed and after a moment had to look away from the intense sincerity in his brother's blue gaze. Damon continued his work. He didn't mean it in the way that Stefan was a curse on the history teacher's life (how Stefan always saw it) but that he was _too_ good for Alaric—and he actually meant it, believed it.

"He doesn't deserved your blood."

"The blood was for you, jackass," Stefan said without thinking. "So I could go away for the weekend with Ric," he gritted back the remembered rejection, "but he has to leave to guest lecture at Duke."

Damon scoffed and gave his head a little shake. "You know, I honestly don't know what the fuck you see in him. Ever since he came into your life, all you've ever been is unhappy and heartbroken."

"People say the same about you."

He laid the last Band-Aid over the side of Stefan's neck and stepped back, going back over to the sink with the first aid kit and taking a brief perusal. "Lexi and Bonnie hardly count."

Stefan's nostrils flared. "Do you think this is easy? Do you know how hard it is to have the two people you love most **hate** each other?" he wasn't expecting an answer and didn't get one.

"Ah, here they are." Damon popped a white tablet from the prescription bottle he found in Stefan's medicine cabinet. "Here, take it."

Stefan looked at the pain killer sitting in his palm and said, "No, I'm not taking that."

"It's either the pill or my blood."

It would be so much easier to just give in. It would be such a relief. To stop struggling and let the misery, loneliness, pain drown and eclipse him. To give into the blood and be free of pain and fear. Stefan popped the pill in his mouth and swallowed the bitter thing dry. But then that wasn't living, it was _dying_.

"Well, consider my feelings hurt," Damon deadpanned, setting the glass of water in his hand down. "Give me a second while I try not to take it personally."

"Alright already, I'll clean up your bathroom."

Damon held up his hand, stopping Stefan from rising. "Nuh-uh. I don't need you half-assing it in the repair of my happy place and the last thing I want to repeat today is picking your lazy ass off the floor."

Stefan watched his brother leave. He slumped with a sigh, carefully cradling his arm, glad Damon was being so amenable... that was usually a meter on how appalling Stefan's condition was at any given time, how nice and accommodating Damon was to him. He took a deep breath and stood up, bypassing the mirror without a glance and into his bedroom. He paused long enough to pulled his curtains closed and switch out the bloody towel with a pair of boxers before crawling into bed with a quiet sound, carefully laying his arm on a pillow for support, treating it even more careful now than when it was first broken. Now that he wasn't compressed with such immediate weight of self-loathing, he was worried and hoped that that punch hadn't shifted the fracture in his arm and knew if the pain persisted, he was going to have to call Meredith and get another x-ray. But right now, he didn't fight it, not this time, and let the pain reliever coat his nerve endings and pull him to sleep.

...

Stefan's body automatically rolled to the other side of his bed as it shifted with the weight of another, even as he was still 90% adrift in sleep. His body seamlessly notched against it, head resting on his companion’s chest, his sore right arm resting comfortably on their stomach. He sighed softly. He already subconsciously registered that this was not who he wanted, who he ached for, but he'd been lonely and since the vampire hadn't pushed him away yet... his fingers instinctually curled into the shirt over the washboard abdomen.

"What is it?" he finally mumbled.

"I'm hungry," Damon said.

"I'm sleeping."

"And I'm still hungry."

Stefan frowned into displeasure. "Can't you wait until I wake up?"

"Do you think I'd crawl into your bed with no good reason?"

"Yes," he grumbled, turning his face in. "You're bored and want to annoy me. And I'm not waking up." Stefan just wanted to sleep, sleep forever, sleep until it was over, sleep so he didn't have to remember. He pulled reluctantly from Damon and rolled back around, hugging a pillow to his chest and squeezing his eyes a little tighter against the stupid burn. He couldn't reasonably say that he believed Damon would just leave at the dismissal, so there wasn't much to say when Damon shifted and spooned behind him, arm snaked around beneath the pillow against Stefan's chest.

It was very reminiscent of when they were younger and human—pre-Katherine, of course—and even as they had grown older, though Damon had never stopped showing Stefan love, the affection petered when Stefan inevitably found himself sneaking into Damon's bedroom at night for whatever reason when all the household was asleep. And despite the ulterior motive behind it now, a piece if not his whole heart, would always crave the brotherly affection and so took it anywhere he could. And Stefan caved, as he was prone to do with Damon. "Fine, you can feed—just let me sleep," he mumbled, turning his face into his pillow.

"I do enjoy breakfast in bed," Damon quipped.

Soft breath curled around Stefan's nape. The brief sharp pierce of fangs sinking into the back of his right shoulder next to his nape. As Damon fed, it was resonant of his wrist, gentle, almost soothing, enough that he managed to doze. Later, he would realize it was probably—definitely—a bad idea to have let Damon feed on him in his bed, and would further alienate his relationship with Alaric when his boyfriend found out, but that was obviously something that wasn't at the forefront of his mind right now.

Stefan was stirred into wakefulness by the text alert on his phone and rolled onto his back with a small groan. The space on the bed next to him was empty, not that he expected anything else. He almost would have thought it had been some dream but when he reached around with his left hand, his fingers felt the edge of a new Band-Aid and that was all he needed to know.

He found his cell sitting on his nightstand; it was a text from Bonnie asking if now was a good time to come over. He texted back an affirmative, it was almost 1 o'clock after all and he really should get something to eat; the last thing he had was kale chips and water at the hospital almost 23 hours ago. His stomach was hollow and he felt a bit nauseas with the hunger but his stomach was quiet. And he should probably take his other pills that were still in his satchel downstairs. Stefan sighed and sat up, legs over the side of the bed. He gently rubbed his elbow, up his upper arm and shoulder, carefully examining his stiff fingers. His arm ached but it wasn't the same acute pain as when he first broke it and his bone was out of alignment; he truly did not want to go back to the hospital right now. After going to the washroom, he washed his face trying to freshen himself up a bit, and ran wet fingers through his mussed hair. He fed Salvatore and dressed, managing to put on a pair of jeans, a loose cotton tee, one of Alaric's bigger pull-on sweaters, slipped his bare feet in his dog slippers and put his arm in the sling with some relief.

His made his way carefully down the stairs, paused in the front entrance to dig out the prescriptions from his satchel and made his way to the kitchen. He filled a glass with tap water, popped the lids off the bottles and swallowed his pills. He threw together a smoothie in the blender in a shorter amount of time than it would have taken to make scrambled eggs; he drank it straight out of the blender container.

"Well, look at Sleeping Beauty, finally up and about at 1 in the afternoon—though we can't really call it a Beauty Sleep and not be liars with that look on you face, brother. Oops, that's just your face!"

Damon chuckled when Stefan set the container down long enough to give him the finger and an unaffected expression. "Ugly jokes, that's what you're going with?"

Damon shrugged. "If the shoe fits."

Stefan just shook his head as Damon went to the freezer. "Bonnie's on her way over."

"Great, 'cause that's what I wanted to do with my Saturday afternoon." He straightened with a blood bag in hand from the bottom drawer.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you have other plans?" Stefan mocked; a quick wary look at the bulging bag in his brother's hand before his attention went back to his smoothie.

Damon's eyes flashed. "Surprisingly my days are a little freer since my split with Andie," he said slyly, watching the subtle stiffening in the back of Stefan's shoulders with a keen blue gaze. "She was actually entertaining to hang out with, great in bed, of course, and her bl--"

Stefan interrupted, "You don't hav--"

"Why? Is me talking about Andie make you uncomfortable? Well, why don't we talk about the little secret you've been keeping that'll make you wish we were still talking about Andie?" he challenged, tossing the bag of blood lightly from hand-to-hand.

Stefan's lips pursed into a thin line. "Do we have to do this now?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, do you have somewhere else to be?" Damon mocked him. Stefan glared silently into the remains of smoothie. "So, Miss Dr Shadow Me member of the Secret Town Council," Stefan looked up sharply at him. "Yeah, I know she's one the Council, Stefan. What, after I found out she was a Fell, I was just going to let sleeping dog's like? Not a chance. Not when she was going to be in charge of your pathetically human medical treatment—so I asked Liz. She's on the Council, Stefan," Damon said through gritted teeth. "She knows all about vampires unlike her douchebag cousin and she's on **vervain**!" Stefan cringed. "And no doubt after that night with compulsion-galore, she knows about us!"

"She's not a threat, Damon."

"She knows my secret, Stefan. Four people are already privy and that's four places I'm vulnerable."

Stefan looked at him with disbelief and hurt. "You're counting me?"

Damon ignored the question and continued, "That's about as many that know about your little taboo relationship with the history teacher." Stefan grimaced internally; Jeremy had found out that he was bisexual last weekend but thankfully not about his relationship with Alaric and that really wasn't the concern right now. "Let's just bump that up to 5 now, too, seeing as you confessed your love to the town history teacher while high on drugs in front of the Council's snitch doctor. _And_ having connected the blood-drops from your little bandage stripe-tease last light, little Miss Good Doctor wouldn't have just given you a pint of your own blood, I don't care how unethical she may or may not be unless she knows at least something of what's been going on." He waved the blood bag. "Am I getting warm yet, Stefan?!"

Stefan slowly slid off the stool and tentatively took the cold blood bag from his brother's hand; things had a tendency to explode in Damon's hand when they argued and the last thing the brunette wanted was a popped blood bag—even if it wasn't his own. "If I thought she was a threat, Damon, I would have told you--"

"Would you?” Damon sneered. "Because I can honestly say that I don't think you would have—and you haven't. I think you're more concerned that I would kill her--"

Stefan gave a humourless chuckle. "Of course I am, that was almost my first thought after I finished freaking out that she knew, yeah. Can you blame me? Tell me that's not the first thing you would have done?" he challenged; Damon rose his chin, unashamed. "Meredith knew, Damon, as soon as she saw the bite on my wrist, she knew. And what did she do? She didn't go to the Council, she told me that she knew. She thought you and Ric were using me as a Walking Happy Meal, compelling me and feeding on my blood. And I made the decision with the cards I had and I convinced her of the truth. She doesn't hate vampires, Damon. As long as you don't go on another killing spree, she has no problem with you."

Damon scoffed and slowly shook his head at his brother. "I don't believe that for one second and neither should you. I can't understand how you can still be so naïve."

"I am far from naïve, Damon." Stefan said. "It's called hope in humanity."

"Like I said... naïve."

"She uses vampire blood, Damon."

"What?" his hissed.

"To heal her critical patients, the ones who otherwise would die without supernatural intervention." He explained.

"And you didn't fly off your moral rocker on that?" Damon mocked.

"I made my opinion clear," Stefan said stiffly to Damon's mild amusement. "She keeps them under 24 hour observation until it's out of their system before releasing them."

"And pray tell, brother," Damon murmured dangerously, "Where does she get the vampire blood?"

Stefan swallowed. "She let it slip when we were talking yesterday that she... has a vampire blood supplier. People she pays for vials of vampire blood like-- like a drug dealer."

"And was your saintly soul even more scandalized?" he derided.

Stefan stared. "You've heard about this?"

"I've been around the block once or twice, Stefy." He said drily. "Just like there are hunters out there to kill us, there are poacher's after the prize like the ivory of an elephant. Sometimes the vampire is as dead as when the hunter gets them, sometimes the vamp plays ball. Is this something I need to worry myself about, Stefan?" he growled.

"No," Stefan said firmly in response. "I confronted her about the dangers of bringing then here and Meredith promised that it was a rare transaction and it never happens in Mystic Falls. What are you going to do?" he asked his brother.

Damon paused just to make his saintly baby brother sweat before dropping the bomb. "Nothing."

Stefan stared, pretty sure he'd heard that one wrong. "Nothing?" he eyed his brother warily.

"You heard right, little bro. Nothing. I'm not gonna lift one damn finger to this situation."

"No, seriously." Stefan insisted.

"As I am, brother."

"If you're going to do something, have the courtesy to tell me this time around because I want to know the shit's falling before it hits me this time."

"You've left me with my hands tied, Stefan. Metaphorically speaking, of course. You could never take me the first time when we were human, let alone you having a chance now. Only the Ripper had that wherewithal."

"Is there going to be a point to this drivel?" Stefan bit out.

"As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted..." Damon replied pointedly. "Had I been promptly informed on the situation instead of you keeping another one of your dirty secrets, yes, I might have gone Accident Man; a slip and fall in the shower in some tragic—fatal—accident. That was quickly thrown out on account that she wouldn't just invite me into her apartment unless she was _really_ stupid. Or a hit and run, they happen all the time."

"Damon!"

"Even catering to your sensibilities, there was the vervain detox and compulsion in the cellar." Stefan was definitely happier with that option. "But then I really thought about it: 'What the hell, Stefan thinks it's okay for this chick to know our secrets. He must have thought this through, the reward v. the risk to _all of us_. I'll let him have it.’" Stefan frowned as Damon closed the distance and the brunette was forced to sit back on the stool with the vampire looming close over him, breath on his face, flecks clear in his gaze framed with dark eyebrows. "And I think this would be a really good life lesson for you, Stefan. When this whole thing blows up in our faces; when Meredith Fell reveals her true motives or inevitably let's it slip like her little blood dealers and the Council is breathing down our necks... no one can point the finger and blame me. This is all you, little brother." Damon reached behind Stefan and plucked up the blood bag before stepping back.

"You can be a real bastard, you know that?" Of course Stefan had warred with himself over this decision and the first true motivation for keeping Meredith's knowledge a secret had been to save her life, but in that same to choose to trust her with the lives of the two most important people in his life, was the resolution that he would not hesitate should her knowledge put his vampires in danger.

"All part of the charm." He poured blood into a glass. "You still love me anyways, don't you?"

Stefan turned back around in the stool. "It's not like you make it easy." He muttered.

"Wicked Witch of the West is here." Damon popped his glass of blood into the microwave. "Just what I need, another pain in my ass."

Stefan made himself finish the last few swallows of the smoothie; his body was in dire need of the nutrients and energy. It would help awaken his appetite too, which couldn't hurt seeing as he didn't really have one at the moment. "In the kitchen, Bonnie!" he called.

Bonnie pushed through the closed two-way door into the kitchen and stopped short when she saw Stefan. She'd last seen him just yesterday afternoon before his appointment, yet something had shifted dramatically. Before, he looked a little pale, tired, and worn (all of which were understandable) but now he just looked so... it hurt her think the word 'frail', because that was the last thing she thought when she thought about Stefan Salvatore, but almost sitting hunched and huddled in what was clearly Alaric's sweater, it was. "Stefan..."

"I'm just tired, and maybe in a little discomforted,"

"What happened? Yesterday you even had an energy."

Stefan grimaced, he really wished yesterday hadn't happened altogether. "It was just a long day yesterday and I accidentally hurt my arm." He avoided looking at his brother as Damon snorted quietly into his glass at the blood-covered lie, all the proof hidden in the sling hiding his bandaged hand. Bonnie must have caught it because she instantly shot Damon a deadly look; and if anyone would be able to kill with a look, it would be Bonnie Bennett.

Damon held up his hands and pled innocent. "Hey, this one wasn't on me, sister."

"He's right. You may find this hard to believe, but not everything is Damon's fault," he said sombrely, but there was twinkle in his eye. "I'm okay, Bonnie. This is what weekends are for."

"Weekends are for you to relax, take a break and have fun." She corrected.

"I don't think relaxation, fun, and I have a very coexisting relationship," Stefan pointed out wryly. "It seems to be a trigger for the shit button."

"Thanks for reminding us just how pitiful your life is, I'd almost forgotten for a second." Damon said caustically. "Can we get this over with? Talking about Stefan's misery is like going down a rabbit hole Alice-style, i.e. fucked-up."

Bonnie checked Damon's 'aura', hands taking a quick pass under the faucet. Damon leaned boredly against the sink, but not before complaining about Bonnie stretching out his v-neck collar. She still felt that instinctive resistance to the invasion of her magic, but it was like background noise, now easily filtered out her third time around. Bonnie was relieved to discover that though the agitation to core of dark magic was still present, she could feel that it had calmed though it was no were near as acclimated as Alaric's, it was acclimating which was what she was looking and hoping for. Damon's 'aura' was still saturated in Stefan's essence, but she could also sense just a bit more of Damon through it. So Bonnie was confident in lowering Damon's daily doses of Stefan's blood; just what she was hoping the outcome of this visit to be. She didn't need to be a doctor to know that this constant loss of blood was hurting Stefan; there was a restriction to blood donations per year for a reason. It would be different if he started drinking vampire blood again but she was loathe to suggest it to Stefan until absolutely necessary. Bonnie dried her hands on the tea towel.

"It's working?" Stefan asked, trying not to sound desperate but was sure he did because he really was.

Bonnie nodded to his relief. "The reaction to your blood has already improved," she told them. "You can lower the amount of blood needed by a quarter."

"That's it?" Damon said.

"Were you expecting something else?" she raised an eyebrow. Damon just gave a one shouldered shrug and took a drink of blood. Bonnie watched his nonchalance with narrowed, green-flecked eyes. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she accused.

Damon quirked a brow and glanced at the glass in his hand, deviously oblivious. "It's a glass of microwaved, pre-packaged blood, Bon Bon, it's nothing to holler home about."

Stefan watched them warily, wearily forcing himself straight and alert when he really just wanted to stay curled over despite it doing no favours for his shoulder.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "That's not what I'm talking about and you know it."

"Oh?" he put the glass down on the counter and straightened. "Then what are you talking about, Miss Bennett?" he questioned, forcing her hand. He remembered Stefan's ultimatum in the parlor Monday.

Bonnie glared, gritting her teeth, furious, knowing exactly how he was baiting her. She knew, yet she couldn't stop herself, Damon just did that. "Having Stefan indentured to you like some blood slave. Back under your thumb, or better yet your fangs and not just metaphorically this time. Better leverage than Salvatore, isn't it!" Surprise flashed in Damon's eyes, and Stefan behind her stilled. She only looked slightly apologetic when she turned around to face the brunette. "I've barely seen you this week, Stefan, and only at school. It's hardly better with Elena only because she's been driving you. It's not good to be cooped in here alone. You need fresh air and your friends. I'm worried about you, Stefan. You need to get away from Damon, even if it's just for a few hours."

"I am right here, you know." Damon pointed out and was ignore by both teens.

Stefan looked at her. He wanted to do something, hang out, maybe even cook her dinner. He didn't really want to be alone and needed company other than Damon but with that weariness back in his bones and misery of Alaric leaving, he knew he wouldn't be worth the company. "I'm _exhausted_ , Bonnie. You're only supposed to donate blood a minimum of 56 days apart. I've given approximately 6 pints in the last 9 days when it should have been spread out roughly just shy of a year. It's a shock to me I'm only mildly anaemic right now when any regular person have hypoxaemia and being going into organ failure." He gave his head a small shake. "All I want to do is sleep, I don't have energy for much else."

"If that's what you really want, Stefan." Bonnie said softly. Stefan nodded.

"Looks like our cuddles are about to get even shorter," Damon murmured in Stefan's ear close behind him as the teen waved Bonnie's Prius out of view forlornly from the front door. Hand on the edge of the door, the vampire pushed it closed, shutting out the outside world. "What, you don't like my company anymore, brother?" Damon took a drink of bourbon as he put a hand around Stefan's shoulder and guided his from the front hall.

Stefan squeezed his eyes closed briefly. There were times— _all the time_ —in the past 146 years that he craved his big brother's attention, affection, care, and company, but this was tainted with blood, possession, jealousy, and anger. On both sides, all sides. And Stefan was just run through. _I want Ric_ , he mourned silently, _I want the things you can't give me_.

Somehow Stefan ended up curled on the sofa in the sitting room, the entertainment stand doors opened and the large television on. This was not something he typically did (while Damon had a large screen hung on his bedroom wall, the television sitting unplugged on a shelf in Stefan's was from '80's with a 14" screen), but while his energy and even motivation, working or going for a run wasn't in the books for him, he was even too tired to focus on the text of a good book. Couch potato and mindless television programs that didn't hold his interest were; along with the piece of gum he was lethargically chewing to try and coax his appetite come dinner time so he could actually do what he wanted—sleep.

**_~ T V D ~_ **

The ringing penetrated Stefan's fog of sleep enough for his hand to go slapping blindly around his nightstand before bringing to ringing device at his ear between his pillow. "'Llo?"

"Sorry I haven’t been able to call sooner. It's been one thing after another since I got here."

"Ric?" his heart swelled at the sound of his boyfriend's voice. And behind that was a sense of relief that Alaric had actually called, which of course was followed by the shame that Stefan had ever thought otherwise. "Don't worry, I'm happy you did."

"Did I catch you at a bad time? You sound groggy."

"I was sleeping."

"It's only 9 o'clock."

"Maybe, but I'm on a hamster wheel schedule here. I sleep, get up for school, eat breakfast, go to school, eat lunch, come home, eat supper, then sleep again. It doesn't sound all that exciting but trust me, it's very action packed and about all the excitement I can take. Everything is just exhausting right now, feels like I'm running on fumes. But what about you back on the ol' stomping grounds? How's it going? You all prepared for your lecture? They put you up in your old apartment?" he wondered a with a sad, longing smile. "You can reminisce about the good old times—when you thought I was human instead of the actually reality of my being human?" he gave a slightly wet chuckle and was meant will crickets. "Wow, no one's into gallows humour these days?"

“Stefan, I wasn’t trying to shun you. It’s hard to see you like this and I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself, and I’ll do something you’ll never be able to forgive me for.” He pleaded.

"I understand.” He cleared his throat. “It's just better with you here. I miss you."

"Can we Face Time? I want to see your face."

Stefan shook his head. _If you wanted to see me, you shouldn't have just left, or you should have let me come with you_. "I think this is a conversation that needs to be done in person," he said. "Just tell me next weekend it'll be just me and you."

"I promise," he whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He croaked quietly. Nothing was said, but the line stayed connected. Stefan closed his eyes and tried to focus, hone in on Alaric's breath across the connection, but his own breath was too fucking loud to hear anyone but himself. He swallowed against the sob choking him and cut the connect as he bit harshly into his bottom lip. Stefan threw the cell phone away into his dark room, not flinching or getting up when it struck a standing lamp shade, both crashing to the floor, the bulb smashing. He grabbed a second pillow and pressed over his head, trying to stifle.

It wasn't some doppelganger curse he had to contend with, but the bitch called karma. She was cruel and cold, striking where he was happy and vulnerable. Death by a thousand cuts. He didn't know how much more blood he had left in him to give.

_[...tbc...]_

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone has a great Christmas and Happy Holidays!


	33. CHAPTER 32: Interlude 6

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~**

Damon stood at his little brother's bedside in the dark, his presence unnoticed by the slumbering teen. But his vamp-gaze was keen in the dark and Stefan's figure was crisp, along with the almost jerky rise of his chest. Supernatural hearing wasn't even needed to hear his short breaths, instead the vampire attuned to the heart that was pumping slightly faster than the norm.

His fingers twitched at his side with the resisted instinct and dusty habit of a childhood long past to lay his hand on Stefan's chest, feel the rise and fall of his chest, the annoying desire for physical connect, confirmation that his baby brother was still here. Instead, Damon's fangs descended and he bite into the edge of his hand. Curling his fingers into the punctures to stop it from healing completely, he held his hand above Stefan's sleeping face, blood dripping slowly from the edge of his palm. Stefan's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed convulsively against the drops of copper that hit the back of his throat, tongue darting out the lap at the drops that hit his lips. Damon relaxed his fingers, the wound healing, the blood supply coming to a stop.

Stefan started to stir and Damon allowed himself to momentarily abandon his resistance and laid his hand reverently on the brunette’s chest. “It’s just me, Stef.” The hushed murmured wasn’t even needed as Stefan settled back to sleep at his mere touch. His blood had already done its stealthy work, Stefan’s breathing turned deep and even, the heartbeat under the palm of his hand normalizing.

The vampire felt no remorse in feeding Stefan blood while he was vulnerable, trusting, exposed; frankly, it gave him all the more reason to. It was no concern to Damon the hatred and betrayal that would shine in the brunette's eyes when he discovered what he had done.

Damon's goal was to keep his brother alive; happiness didn't account into it.

**_~ T V D ~_ **

Elena kept shooting him sidelong looks and biting on her bottom lip, making it plump and red with blood at the almost abusive attention.

"Not that I mind being stared at with that look on your face, Elena," Damon spoke up slyly, making her start. "But is there something I can do for you?"

Elena tucked her hair self-consciously behind her ear, her lips pursed with indecision at being caught and called out. He waited her out, delicately folding the news paper in his hand with zero crinkle and sharp creases. "I saw the bites on Stefan's neck—your bites."

"Ah," he blurred to his feet, but was slow as he stalked around the island to where she was lingering to wait for Stefan. She subconsciously stepped back, but when the back of her shoulders hit the wall, she lifted her chin and crossed her arms defiantly. "And you were wondering if I could feed from you as well?"

"What? No!" she scoffed.

He was close, like there was no room but him despite the large kitchen around them. "Well, you certainly offered yourself enough like the little sacrificial doppelganger lamb that I know you to be. Reminds me a little of someone we both know."

She protested, pushing ineffectually against his chest. "That is not--!"

"Oh, now I understand." He murmured softly. Damon reached up and brushed her loose hair back over her shoulder, cool fingertips grazing feather light along the jugular of her throat, causing Elena to shiver involuntarily. "It's not my bite you're interested in." He tipped his head forward, his face in her throat. The tip of his nose brushed against her skin, inhaling her scent gently. Teasing her as she held very still, but her pounding heart gave her away. "It's Stefan's. Sweet, precious Stefan." Elena gulped at the whisper of his lips; he secretly smirked. "You should know, if the ever happens... he'd tear you to pieces," he whispered harshly into her ear. "And not in the sexy or fun way." He took a step back and smirked as she glared at him, furious and humiliated, heat in her face. "But don't be hesitate to call me up, 'Lena. I'm never against a little doppelganger snack." He let a little suggestive fang out to play.

Elena growled and swung at him. He easily caught it. "Don't tease me," he pouted, bopping her on her cute little angry-crinkled nose. Damon let her shove him away and she stormed out the two-way door just as he heard Stefan descending the stairs. "Cell's always on!" he called after her with a chuckle.

Damon shook his head and went back to his coffee and paper. Poor little doppelganger girl, still in love with his little brother. Their relationship was doomed from the beginning.

"Don't worry, I won't tell him your secret, Elena." _There‘s already enough drama as it is._

**_~ T V D ~_ **

Damon paused and stared at the couple drops that managed to escape the cut on his index finger before it healed amid the red bell peppers on the chopping board at the island counter. He wiped it away and resumed chopping. He scraped the pepper into the heated frying pan on stove with the back of the butcher knife to join the mushroom, broccoli florets, and green tomato. He whisked a couple drops of Tabasco sauce into the eggs and poured it over the other ingredients. He took up the butcher knife again and twisted the point into the pad of his finger over the pan, watching his blood dribble into the bubbling egg from where flesh and knife met before he released it. His finger instantly healed with the lack of constant pressure and he licked the blood from his finger as he swirled the pan. The blood faded from view as the egg cooked and what remains there were, were obscured with ricotta cheese and folded over.

Damon slid the omelette onto a saucer as he heard Stefan coming down the hall toward the kitchen and set it in front of an empty stool. He watched from the corner of his eyes as he cracked a couple eggs into the pan as he brother took his first bite of omelette and felt no regret as Stefan unknowingly feasted on Damon's blood.

Stefan wanted to keep secrets? That just gave Damon allowance for a few of his own.

_[...tbc...]_

**~ _The Vampire Diaries_ ~ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **First time Elena’s been in an Interlude, let’s give her a hand! I did have a silent challenge for myself to see if I could keep her out of them just for fun, but I’d written the scene down and I wanted to put it somewhere so… here we are. :)**

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters will follow. I'm still writing and need to break this thing into chapters. So you like Alarfan as much as I do? Please kudos and review and stay tuned!


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